St. Patty's Day is Officially Over Until 2011

Sitting at work in the County Limerick conference room Monday morning, we were handed our monthly calendars with upcoming work projects, customer visits, and national holidays. I immediately crossed off those three words: St.-Patty's-Day. My coworker Adam looks over and asks, "Why did you cross that off?" I simply replied, "Because it's done until next year." At this point I needed no other explanation. My other coworker Kevin had passed me on the highway to work and already told me I was driving very slowly, with a blank stare on my face.

St. Patty's Day has always been my holiday of choice. It stands for all that is Irish, drunk, irresponsible, and embarrassing, but this year I had redefined what it meant to me (with the help of some friends of course). I thought having my first drink at noon was a late start compared to years past. We also chose a fifth of Absolute Vanilla as well, opting out of the bargain handle of Smirnoff because we didn't need that influence of all that vodka sitting around the house. We were off to a great start. Little did we know, some stains would came over with their own goodies, we would return for the handle of Smirnoff, and the shitshow would began. Toast to St. Patty!

After drinking a few shots of my Listerine and staring at a shower curtain for 5 minutes in the dark, I soon found that a short ride in a taxi was physically impossible. The bar was busy, crowded, full of the usual frat boys and hobags, drunks outside crying about their sisters fiances, but seemingly familiar to those of EL or AA. America lost an hour that night due to daylights savings time, I lost a few hours due to quite a few other things.

That's why we will jump to the end of the night. Time to go home. Time to be safe. Time to sleep. NOT EXACTLY. I received a call from a friend who lost her keys and invited her to come over. I didn't invite the 5 bean burritos and nachos in her purse though. Nevertheless, they were happily introduced to my tummy and all the vodka inside it. But wait, where was my other friend? He had been gone for way too long. Oh, he was passed out in a pile of towels in the workroom.

The next morning I woke up not really knowing exactly where I was. It happened before when I woke up in downtown EL but Chicago is a much larger jungle. I realized that I had passed out on the couch but my friends were sound asleep in a bed. After 10 unanswered calls, I saw a beer on the pool table, full. "What the hell, go ahead Erik," I said. "What a nice microbrew!" I told myself. The door opened. It was a Russian cleaner, there to clean up our hot sauce stains. I fled the scene in shame.

"What room are my friends in? They aren't answering my calls?" I tried and tried to just find an exit to the building, but there were none. They were all fire exits. It was like being in that Super Mario ghost level and you can't find the way out of the castle. I found a bathroom, sat on the toilet, drank my beer, and then cried. "What got me to this point?" (actually a dumb question, I knew the answer already). After getting my shit together I realized that I'm on the 2nd floor and I just needed a stairwell to get out. I walked outside to the gorgeous weather and cried again.

Well, if you are all wondering, I did find the way to my friends. At that point I needed a drink, so I drank the rest of the Belvidere for breakfast and once again toasted to St. Patty. "Until next year!"

I loved dancing for 24hrs straight. I loved being with great friends, and especially, reconnecting with my old roommate of two years. I loved being Irish for the day. But I only love it enough for it to happen once a year.

Cheers guys!