St. Patrick’s Day in America

For those keeping score, we are rapidly approaching formula drinking holiday number three of the calendar year. New Years and Mardi Gras are safely tucked away as we now sound the amateur hour alert for the traditional, non-traditional, St Patrick’s Day slosh fest. Don’t fret; you won’t be hampered by the sensible folks as we, just like New Year’s, have moved our festivities to private homes and venues leaving the tawdry swag and questionable libations for your eager hands. We wish you well and simply ask that you leave your car keys at home and refrain from urinating on our trees and chundering in our flowers boxes.

Next to the amateur affect, my second point of contention is homogeny. Why are all ‘celebrations’ largely the same regardless of intent or ethnicity? It’s ground Hog Day for unimaginative revelers. There is scant little difference between all of the American binge drinking holidays that dot the calendar each year. If photos of these occasions were offered exclusively in black & white, sorting one date from another would be a tall order indeed.

Let’s examine the typical celebration and its various props:

The theme drink – In the case of St. Patrick’s Day it’s green beer. (Enough said)
Bad plastic hats – On St. Patrick’s Day they’re green.
Beads – Now this one is a particular irritant to me. Beads are a traditional accouchement for Mardi Gras. For decades beads have been an integral part of that celebration. Now, we have beads for everything, offered in the appropriate color of course. Thanksgiving Day Beads? Don’t snicker, they’re coming.
Streamers – For all occasions, pick your color.
Noisemakers – As if these were needed for the staggering, bead and plastic hat brigade…

I will spare us all of any discussion and examination of the typical behavior found on the streets and bars of any city or town.

For all of you that have relegated me to the “no-fun” pile, I will submit to you that I have had – and continue to have – more than my share of fun. I have bent my elbow sufficiently and witnessed enough closing hours in many of the world’s finest and dodgiest drinking establishments to have earned my stripes many years ago. I simply submit that I don’t take any joy in standing elbow to elbow and with anyone that feels obliged to drink their weight in cheap booze simply because the calendar has struck a magic date. However, if all of this is your cup of tea, you’re in luck. The usual suspects are busy preparing a startlingly similar celebration for Cinco de Mayo complete with the predictable Mexican flare.

I will meet you out where an honest meal, a proper pint, a sweet dram of Whiskey, and a good conversation can be found. Please join me…