St. Patricks day is a pretty big deal here in the States. Having said that, I haven't celebrated it properly in *cough* *gasp* uhhh, we'll just say too long.
The last great St. Pat's was in Butte, Montana. A hole of a city, the place was originally settled by Irish minors back in the day. Butte grew rapidly once copper was discovered and, in its hay-day, was the largest city in Montana and a popular stop-over from the east to the west on the way to Seattle. It even sported a grand amusement park all decked out in wooden roller coasters and a Ferris wheel. Unfortunately, a couple of jerks from Canada (nothing against, Canadians, but there are jerks in every place) came down, bought out the mines, began strip mining tore down the amusement park and every grand house within reach. Now there is a big hole full of toxic water. Anyway, the city lost a lot and the population hovers near 14,000 now, except on St. Patricks day when everyone within Montana, Alberta, British Columbia, Idaho, Wyoming, Washington (and probably a few other places) pour into that city to celebrate. It's been awhile since the last time I joined in that party so I was aching to get out and do something fun here in New York.
The RM and I hit the parade on 5th Avenue, down near the end stretch. We hoped up on some mounds of ice and snow and had a great view right on the street. We even brushed shoulders with the mayor as he exited the parade.
Two hours later and, how many men in skirts? and we were ready to drink. After a brief respite from the cold in a small diner (must have food to drink all night), we found the first in a long chain of Irish bars on 3rd Ave. Cramming our way into the place, we started off strong with two lagers each, made some friends, then shoved our way to the back exit. Before leaving, though, I grabbed another lager, RM took a break, and we chatted with some English boys reveling in the novelty of an American bar full of American girls who really could care less about the Irish/English history. We just like the accents.
Our next stop included a fully loaded juke box and cute firemen. Where do these firemen hide out? Really, I'm curious. They just came out of the woodworks on St. Pats, it was lovely.
The third stop included a much larger venue and an an adorable old Irish couple. We chatted with them for quite awhile, then began our wandering. I ended up hanging out with a mountain of a man and RM ended up heading out for late night food.
As the evening wore down, I decided it was well time I was on my way and headed out for a cab. Of course, being me, I ran into a group on their way to a house party. I was invited, and hey, it was only something-am...Now this is where the trouble started. They were all nice people, a little rich and snobbish maybe, but nice enough. They also only had Bud Light. Seriously, if you live in a loft that freakin expensive, you could do with a little nicer beer.
Well, I drank the Bud Light, knowing full well I shouldn't. You see, a little known fact is that Bud is a rice based alcohol (I learned this from RM, very smart girl) and a lot of people are actually allergic to rice based alcohol. Honestly, one sip of Saki, one sip of Bud, and the hangover will last a day. The party ended as the sun came up and I cabbed it home to suffer a day of "the worst headache ever."
The good news is, the green paint I put in my hair pre-drinking, did wash out.