I wish I was out there drinking a beer; a green beer to be more accurate. Maybe even a Guinness, covered in shamrocks and random green paraphernalia. Actually no, I don't. I don't think my liver has fully recovered from binge drinking this weekend. But...
This begs the question how did this saint appreciation day ever become synonymous with getting wasted?
Are we really that deprived of holidays in our society that we have to make one u p where it is okay to drink at noon, and not be judged? That we have a ready made excuse if we do something stupid on this 17th day of March? “Oh honey, I didn’t mean to do that, but this little wee leprechaun whispered in my ear that it was a good idea to drink a pitcher of coloured altered beer.” Or is it just the good ol’ Irish looking for a holiday that makes the whole world appreciate them? Nationalism at its finest, if I do say so myself!
Or was this saint a drunkard to begin with, chasing those snakes out with a barrel of whiskey in his hand? Is Patrick rolling in his grave in disgust (which funny enough we will all be feeling like we belong in a grave the next day), or is he just happy that he’s at least being remembered and honored? I know that when I die, (even if I’m not canonized into a saint), if someone cheers and dedicates a whole day to me with the intentions of getting shittered, then I have lived a good life and I for one will be damn proud of it and be rolling in my grave having a jolly ol’ time.
So raise a glass, thank the good ol’ Irish for making this holiday fun.