St. Patrick’s Day as observed by many. (Your family must be proud…)

It’s here, St. Patrick’s Day the third in the trifecta of imbecile drinking holidays in as many months. New Year’s Day 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. Of course there is nothing wrong with the observance of the day, it all comes down to how too many choose to observe.

Somehow an ever-growing number of holidays have become nothing more than a reason to start drinking at breakfast and continue until you can’t feel your extremities nor remember your name.

Don’t fret; you won’t be hampered by the sensible folks as we, just like New Year’s, have moved our St. Patrick’s Day festivities to private homes and low-key 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 flower boxes.

Next to the amateur effect, my second point of contention is homogeny. Why are all ‘celebrations’ largely the same regardless of intent or ethnicity? There is scant little difference between all of the American binge drinking holidays that dot the calendar each year. What’s with the beads? It’s green bead day so it must be St. Patrick’s Day. Any beads that haven’t slipped into the gutter or held in the local police lock-up will be drug out again for Cinco de Mayo.

A Few Signs That You Are Doing St. Patrick’s Day Wrong

• Green Beer
• Green Beads (any plastic beads really)
• A cheap green plastic hat
• Irish Car Bombs – a grave offense to anyone from Ireland and a horrible drink as well
• (Last but not least) Who the feck is Patty? Stop with the Happy St. Patty Day! It’s not Patty rather Patrick, Paddy, or Pádraig.

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 and green beer simply because the calendar has struck the date. My St. Patrick’s Day will be filled with music, Irish Stout, Irish Whiskey, and safely tucked away at home before happy hour.