It’s March 17th, St. Patrick’s Day, and if you’re not Irish, you are today. And if you are Irish then you’re positively glowing green with Irish pride. After all, today is a day to celebrate the man who chased the snakes out of Ireland and invented green beer.
“Top o’ the morning,” you shout as launch out of bed for a traditional Irish breakfast of Lucky Charms cereal.
Because it’s the holy and sacred day of your people, you top off the Lucky Charms with a large mug of green beer.
Sure, you have work today, but what would St. Patrick himself do? Surely he’d make a wee detour to the downtown core to watch the Paddy’s Day parade?
And while there, wouldn’t the blessed Saint have the holy drink of the Emerald Isle, another green beer?
Now that the parades over so you text your boss “Níl mé ag teacht a bheith ag obair,” which is Irish Gaelic for “I’m not coming to work today ye slag,” and you set off for a traditional Irish lunch of green beer and some fecking french fries.
Now that it’s the afternoon it’s time to go to the Irish pub and sing Danny Boy for three to five hours with whatever brave Irish patriots are there until the band is ready to get up and play Danny Boy. Naturally, you buy a few rounds for yourself and your new friends.
Normally, you wouldn’t imbibe to such a degree but 3-17 more green beers wouldn’t be out of a order to celebrate such an illustrious date.
By now it’s nightfall and relieve yourself you sneak out to alley, and what do you spy…but a mystical leprechaun. You grab hold of the little feller and start shouting out your wishes.
He bites your hand and kicks your shin and now that you’re so close you realize it’s a just short man wearing green, also in the alley relieving himself. You apologize and offer to buy him a green beer and due to the magical good feelings of the day he quickly forgives you. His name is Sheamus Hanrahan and he’s now your best friend for the night.
You head back in and get up on the table to show Sheamus that you can dance an Irish jig.
You and your little friend retreat to the corner for Jameson shots, and before you know it it’s almost closing time. Sheamus is asleep in his chair so you drag him over to the rowdiest table and explain he’s a leprechaun and you’ll trade him for a pint of green beer. They accept your generous deal so you joyously drink down your night cap.
It’s 2 AM and the holiday is over. Time to retreat to the pub washroom for a long night’s sleep…you earned it. Plus, don’t forget, you have work tomorrow.
