As a newly-minted, responsible adult, my plans for this most faux-Irish of holidays are pretty tame. I’ll work and then go volunteer. If I’m feeling wily, I might even take myself through the Starbucks drive-through on the way to Aquinas. As boring as it may sound, I’m pretty pleased with my plans. (I had my green beer over the weekend, thankyouverymuch.)
Still, I understand that my boring holiday plans don’t make for a good story, so I’ll tell you about how I spent St. Patrick’s Day during my Senior Year of College.
A Green Tale of Mismanaged Expectations
St. Patrick’s Day was a Thursday that year. I know that it was a Thursday, without consulting the calendar for two reasons:
- Bar Trivia, a drunken Olympiad of inane knowledge, was on Wednesdays.
- I had a standing lunch, laundry and dinner date with my parents, who lived an hour away, on Thursdays.
In the lead-up to this particular Thursday, my friends (Stephanie and Jessica, you met them in the Pittsburgh post) and I made a few executive planning decisions. First, we decided that trivia ought to be low-key that week. Second, we decided that I would spend the night at their place in advance of the St. Patty’s festivities. We would walk to the bar for breakfast, I would stay sober to pick up my car at the shop and then pick them up after my Korean exam.
In hindsight, this plan left much to be desired.
What Time Does Bar Breakfast Start?
For whatever reason, we believed that there would be an epic line to get into the bar for breakfast. Bar opened at 7 am, so 5 am seemed like the only logical time to get there. So we did. It was cold, dark and miserable, and we sat out on the concrete planters in front of the bar for two hours, wondering where all our fellow “Irishmen” were.
They never arrived.
In fact, we were the only people in the bar until 9 am. Whatever, that was fine. I drank my green beer, ate my green eggs and worked on my thesis. Actually, I had one green beer and then switched to all-I-could-drink coffee. Believe it or not, I got quite a bit done in the four hours I was at the bar.
Then, I went to class, got my car out of the body shop (I’ll tell you more about what a terrible driver I am on another day), picked up my comrades and dropped them off at home for a midday nap. Then, I drove the hour to my parents’ house, got Italian with my mother for lunch, did my laundry, took a nap and ate dinner with my folks.
Let’s Get this Party Started
Family obligations complete, I took a shower and changed into appropriately festive attire. I even did my makeup and fluffed up my hair to bar-worthy levels. Making the trek back to my college town, my plan was to park the car somewhere safe for the night, drink with my friends and take a cab home.
I had it all laid out before me. Green beer! Jello shots! Irish Car Bombs! It was going to be great.
By the time I met up with my friends at the bar, I was so tired and had such a ridiculously bad headache that I nursed a green Sprite for the whole night and then drove all my drunk friends home.
What can I say? I’m a total buzzkill.
And that’s how my Senior Year St. Patrick’s Day went.
Here’s What I Wore Sunday:
This was a largely experimental outfit for me. I went with a formula that always worked for me when I worked outside of the house (pencil skirt, blouse, sweater, done) but now I’m not so sure. On the bright side, that skirt hasn’t fit in like 5 years! Yay! (And check my patent green wingtips!)