Drinking Memoirs: An Irishman's St Patrick's Day

"Every St. Patrick's Day every Irishman goes out to find another Irishman to make a speech to. "
Shane Leslie.

So its St. Patty's day again, and I'm stuck contemplating my fate, as an American of Irish decent. It seems every culture has its place here in the "melting pot" but, not everyone wants to celebrate the Chinese New year. Although it's more often than not, I've seen quite a few Chinese folks donning the green garb, and downing a solid pint of Guinness like it's the last drink they might ever have. I also hear, it quite often said, "everybody is Irish on St. Patty's day", and that may be true to a greater or lesser extent. I'm not sure. What I am sure of, is I am very proud of my culture, and where my people have come from, but I am not above the overall world wide, (or is it just American?) inclination to go out on this holiday, and do much, much more than my share of binge drinking. I will be counted among the multitudes out there, puking up my beer, getting into fights, and telling jokes. It seems to me though that in all of this strange mess and partying, many of us have lost a sense of what it truly means being Irish.

I had a friend once. Let's call him, "Lester". Lester's father was from Germany; Lester's mother was a rather attractive Hispanic woman. One Saint Patrick's day, I took Lester out drinking with me. Five drinks turned into ten, turned into twelve, turned into I don't know how many. It seems drinking among American males these days, has become a sort of cock fight. Who has the bigger genitals? Who has had more sex? Who can bench press the most weight? Who can hold their liquor? Needless to say, Lester and I had a few too many. I woke the next morning to the rather uncomfortable grey walls of a jail cell, nursing a rather horrible hangover, with Lester beside me, still comatose. Lester himself woke much to his surprise, to find he had gotten a green, white, and orange shamrock tattooed on his arm, and a black eye. Yes, I thought to myself, the cops must love Saint Patties as much as the rest of us. Or not.