Éirinn go brách

Today is pretty much the low point of the Chicago social calendar as far as I'm concerned. The Saturday of or just before St. Patrick's Day is certifiably insane around here. It seems to be especially bad here in my neighborhood, as there are a large concentration of Irish-themed pubs in a very short walking distance from my apartment. This morning I went to catch my bus to work at about 8:30, and I was amazed at the number of people who were already staggering down the street in their bright green tee shirts and Mardi-Gras-with-clover plastic bead necklaces. It took me a few hours to realize that those people probably just never went home last night, but still, 8:30 am is impressive either way, starting or finishing. On the ride home this afternoon I saw the police dragging some guy out of this one pub just down the block, handcuffing him on the back of the unmarked squad car while the line up of eager DePaul students waiting to get in the door for some green beer watched idly by. That was about 3 pm, so the party's really just begun.

I hate drunk people, so I'm gonna be holed up at home for the rest of the evening, waiting for this storm of cod-Irish alcoholism to pass me by. At least tonight I'll feel like I have some excuse.

Currently Reading:
At Swim, Two Boys by Jamie O'Neill