About St. Patrick’s Day…

Yes, I know, yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day but when this thought started becoming coherent the revelers were already throwing up in the streets.

For me, it was a Thursday, and that meant a trip down to Evil Bob’s for a game of D&D or Pulp Adventures. Well, we planned for the former, changed to the latter when a couple of people said they wouldn’t make it, and then cancelled altogether. I had gotten the cancellation from Bob just as I got into the car to go. It’s about an hour’s drive to Bob’s house, so I always make it a point to check for anything last minute before I hit the road. Sitting there in the car, I decide to go to Claddagh for the evening, texting Bob that it’s officially Guinness time.

As I’m pulling into the Southside Works, Bob asks if I was still interested in playing some Pulp. It’d be one on one, but I declined while stating my intentions.

Then I stood outside Claddagh. The place was packed to the outdoors, same as last year. I looked at the crowd, especially the women in tight pants and heels (hey, I’m single and human) and did some thinking. I said to myself “you know, I could pay the five dollar cover charge, force my way to the table, eat about $20 worth of food, drink about $30 worth of Guinness out of some goddam plastic cups, alone in an overcrowded bar full of people just looking to get shitfaced and perhaps screw their SOs (or just plain get lucky). On the other hand, I could get back in my car, drive an hour and change, be a geek and enjoy a couple games and beers with a friend.”

I chose the latter.

I’m Irish — not pureblooded like this guy (read his stuff), but it’s that portion of my ethnic mix that I relate to the most. Many of the Irish refer to what goes on during St. Patrick’s Day as “amateur night,” and I agree with that assessment. A lot of people go out to just get hammered. Not my game.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure as hell not a tea-totaller. I enjoy a good beer, but standing outside that pub made me realize a few things. For one, I was probably going to be one of five people drinking responsibly in there. On top of that, I knew I wasn’t going to be scoring with any women there — that’s not my sort of thing in the first place. Lastly, they were pouring Guinness into plastic cups, and not proper pint glasses. To me that’s insulting. Sure, there’s a safety issue serving actually glasses to that many people (and the place was probably pushing it as far as occupancy goes), but you don’t guzzle Guinness, even if it’s not poured as a proper pint should be given.

And green beer? Really people?

If there was a place for me on St. Patrick’s Day, it’d be Piper’s Pub, wherein one shall find a proper pint of beverage can be served with excellent food, proper football on the television, and anyone asking for green beer will be served a dirty look.

That’s my kind of pub, and even though the time for partying has passed, it’s where I’ll be spending some time this weekend, relaxing and reflecting on the joys of life.

Slainte Mhath!


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