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March 17, 2011

The Big Question: Green Beer Edition

Filed under: Holidays,The Big Question — Miss Plumcake @ 10:32 am

Considering I’m just a few days away from heading to the land of the leprechauns and liver failure,  I’ve never had that much of a yearning for the Emerald Isle. I like England, I like Scotland, I’m pretty sure I love Wales but Ireland? Meh. Never really thought about it.

Nor do I spend a lot of time thinking about St Patrick’s Day. He’s like my least favorite Celtic saint (Saint Cuthbert of Lindisfarne por vida, mijas!) plus St Patrick’s Day is right up there with New Year’s Eve, Halloween and Mardi Gras as the most amateur of amateur’s nights. And yet, we’ve all been there. We may not remember being there. But we have.

I’ve never actually been slizzered (see! I listen to the pop music!) on St Paddy’s, but I have been the designated driver of many who have, including one person when last I saw her was licking a clown’s bald head at the local expat Irish pub.

So today Miss Plumcake wants to know:

What is your best, by which I mean worse, St Patrick’s Day story? Change the names to protect the innocent…as if there are such things!


  1. Ooh. When I was nineteen, I went to the Bahamas for a Geology Class. (Yes, I am lucky to have gone to a school that offered science classes IN THE BAHAMAS.)

    The last night there was St. Paddy’s. And since I am so Irish that there’s a crumbling castle there bearing my family’s name, I went nuts. Drunk on rum and Cokes. Dancing with random dude, then making out with random dude on the beach behind the bar. Then turning over and vomiting into the sand. Over and over. Random dude ditched me and I was eventually discovered by some girls from a different college. They led me down the front stairs of the bar in a phalanx to prevent me from falling to any side (there was even a girl in front!). They popped me in a taxi van which was driven by Satchmo’s doppelganger, and I was taken back to the dorms. Next day, of course, I could barely stand the smell of sand, much less breakfast. This was the first and last time I ever got drunk enough to hork.

    Comment by Lucy — March 17, 2011 @ 1:57 pm

  2. Twenty two years ago, on Saint Patrick’s Day, my future husband made the commitment to be with me. I thought it was the happiest Paddy’s Day of my life, but as it turned out, the one nineteen years later, when he left at my request, was a a tie.

    Comment by Margo A — March 17, 2011 @ 6:29 pm

  3. I was 22, just out of college, dating a young man with whom I’d been smitten for ages. Years. I spent St. Patrick’s Day (a Saturday) in a bar with some mutual friends (sans the young man). Says one “Sorry to hear it didn’t work out with you and Jackass. But New Girlfriend seems pretty nice.” It was like getting hit by a truck – the first I’d heard of either the didn’t-work-out or the New Girlfriend.

    So yeah, I found out that I had been dumped and replaced that St. Patrick’s Day. Went for a long walk with a good friend, hammered, in the freezing cold, crying, then back to the bar where my friends were horrified that the jerk had told everyone BUT me that we were over, and tried to cheer me up by buying me beers to cry in. Don’t remember much of the rest of the day…

    In retrospect, it was a good thing (he had some unacceptable… shortcomings, shall we say), but still.

    Comment by Jennifer — March 17, 2011 @ 6:43 pm

  4. St Patrick’s day is really not my favourite day. It’s a time for all plastic paddys to claim irish descent and celebrate it (despite never having been to Ireland!) by drinking until they puke in the street. Like this is some sort of irish ritual…weird.

    Comment by Josie — March 18, 2011 @ 5:30 am

  5. It has to be this last one–road tripped with friends (some older- most younger) and ended up in a mall–(A MALL- we couldn’t see anything diffent?!?!) in stores That catered to the young, trendy, and anorexic (Large was a size 4). AND we were no where near a bar ( would have even downed a green beer after that)

    Comment by lisa — March 19, 2011 @ 1:41 am

  6. I play in an Irish band. During my first SPD gig, some drunk screamed “LET ME PLAY YOUR FLUTE” into my face while we were performing.

    We decline all pub gigs on SPD now.

    Comment by Sue — March 22, 2011 @ 3:13 pm

  7. My uncle owns a pub. I, as a young lass in need of money and not so fond of babysitting, worked in that pub. Until the St Patrick’s Day where I got puked on (green!) three times. (And groped innumerably, but it was the puke that made me swear never to be bar staff on SPD again.)

    Comment by Scarlett — March 22, 2011 @ 11:32 pm

  8. My birthday is SPD, so I almost have a party of some sort. I’m not usually the “slizzerd” type, but I did turn 21 on a SPD on a Saturday in Milwaukee, the land where they only close the bars long enough to hose things down each night. So we went out at midnight just as I “turned” and stayed out til close at 3:00 am.

    Then the bars all re-opened for SPD at 5 or 6 am, so my friends and I napped. I was going to try and get the free t-shirts and pint glasses and Irish breakfasts the bars near campus (all Irish-like pubs – it was a Catholic school) were giving out, but I could hardly walk. Friends brought me back some prizes, including a large mug from “our” bar, won by eating a huge bowl of Lucky Charms topped with Guiness. I’m glad I wasn’t in on that one.

    Once I got some sleep, we watched the massive parade (while hair-of-the-dogging it with some Jameson), ate lunch (and had a Guiness), napped some more and then went out for the big night on the street that was full of “trendy” clubs we never really went to. It was kind of lame and I got some looks from sorority girls I elbowed out of the way at the bar. We ended up leaving pretty early.

    All I have to say about that day was Thank God the next day was Sunday and I had time to recover. I think I slept for 12 straight hours. The morning was hard, but I had a 7 page paper to write for Monday, and had to sing for an evening mass. Ah, youth!

    Comment by Emi!y — March 23, 2011 @ 1:43 pm

  9. My favorite Paddy’s Day was actually a 5 day weekend I spent in Ireland with my brothers and my new bf who they had just met. It was a fantastic weekend, well what I can remember. :)

    Comment by JenniferA — March 24, 2011 @ 3:26 pm

  10. All I have to say about that day was Thank God the next day was Sunday and I had time to recover. I think I slept for 12 straight hours.

    Comment by dress — March 29, 2011 @ 4:37 am

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