NBD, I'm Irish Everyday

I'm going to wildly subject hop. Yes, we had been talking about ponies, which is all well and good, I love ponies. But arguably the most important holiday for drinker's everywhere was this past weekend. And I would certainly be remiss if I didn't at least touch on the subject.

So, St. Patrick's Day. I'll go ahead and admit that this year's St. Patrick's Day was rather subdued in comparison with other St. Patrick's Days. Sure, we did Car Bombs, and mixed up green shots (I'm gonna go ahead and give a shout out to Dana here because A. she asked for one, and more importantly B. she played bartender all night. It was nice to sit at my own bar and have someone else do the brainstorming about what to make.), and sure I was puking before bed, still in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't a particularly eventful night. Don't get me wrong, we had a good time.  But it was a far cry from some of our past St. Patty's parties.

With that being said, I'm going to go ahead and talk about a St. Patrick's tradition that is very dear to my heart, even if I'm somewhat convinced that partaking in it again will likely kill me. Every year the city of Scranton in Pennsylvania hosts a St. Patrick's parade. Amusingly, due to some weird city politics, it will never be held on St. Patrick's Day itself. So, every year it's held the Saturday prior (yes, even in years that St. Patty's is on a Saturday, mind boggling, I know). For anyone who lives in Scranton, or more importantly (yes, I am about to climb aboard my elitist high horse) attended the University of Scranton, Parade Day has become something of a legend. I'm not saying that being a student at the U somehow makes you better than someone who lives in Scranton, I'm just saying that an entire day of drunken debauchery is probably way more momentous for college students. I've heard people refer to the day as a little enigma in time, a day that doesn't seem to fit into the normal parameters of existence. Everyone you meet is a friend, and everyone is invited to every party. The standard course of events is to wake up at 6 AM, tap the keg, and cook up some breakfast. The day pretty much spirals out from there. You wander the streets, go watch the parade, meander into some strangers' houses, all the while drinking and drinking and drinking. Some time in the mid to late afternoon, you'll likely take a nap. After which, you get the awesome experience of a mid-evening hangover, and that can only be cured by more drinking. It's hard to put into words, but if you ever find yourself presented with the opportunity to celebrate parade day, do it. It's not exactly nerdy, but it's a good time.