St. Patrick's Day 2005, Dublin Ireland. As the card says, it's a fine line between 'celebrate' and 'riot'.
What a glorious weekend. I say weekend, but it was really Wednesday night to Sunday afternoon. I feel as if I were on vacation. Except that I stayed here instead of boarding a plane back to Texas. My Three Sons were in town. I don't have sons, no one panic, but an acquaintance from Dallas was in town with 2 friends and I was allowed to squire the boys around Dublin for the weekend. Being local and all... I must say, Tax Boy has trained me well, I didn't have a problem in finding pubs for us to have a few drinks in. In all, I can count 15 that I was in, and since I had that dreadful run in with the wine on Saturday, the boys chalked up at least 5 more than I. (it's like I'd never been around wine before...Shameful to go home at 10, but necessary) (Sorry I left without saying good bye Kev, but when a cab stops, you take it) So the weekend started by meeting Chris, Kevin + Mike by my office at the big funky white bridge. Evidently, this statement was greeted with 'What does she mean, all the bridges are white?!'. Not a good way to establish credibility, but I was redeemed when they saw the bridge I was referring to, newly built by Santiago Calatrava. Drinks quickly followed at Ireland's oldest pub, the Brazen head established in 1189 or some other ridiculous date. Turned out we all got a long well and the festivities began. 1 down, 700 to go.
The city of Dublin is trying it's best to shift the focus of the weekend to a family festival rather than a drunk festival. As such, they plan an enormous amount of activities through out the city for all to enjoy. There is a classic car show which we missed, a children's fun fair which we avoided, street musicians and performers that were impossible to avoid, a fireworks show over the river Liffey which we just caught the tail end of, several concerts, plays, lectures that we simply didn't have time for. And then there was the parade. 2 hours of bands, floats, cars, etc... weaving thru the streets of Dublin. It's quite a show too. I know because I was 2 blocks away from the parade watching it on TV at a pub. The throng of people was so deep that, unless you arrived early that morning (read:10 am, it's Ireland people, no one gets up early on a holiday if they don't have to) which we did not. So we retired to a pub and began the slow decent into drunkness. No they don't have green beer. No they don't dye the river green. That would be an improvement certainly, but highly un-orthodox and probably un-environmentally friendly. They do wear green, but are more likely to have a few sprigs of shamrocks on their lapels. Most of the pubs in Temple Bar serve corned beef and cabbage or Irish stew. And yes, it's called Irish stew, not just stew. I have no idea what you'd get if you ordered stew; I might try that and see. There was plenty of music, but very few pubs we were in had Irish music. Except U2. We spent most of the day in Messrs. Maguire's, a 5 story bar on the quays (pronounced inexplicably 'keys') Much fun was had there. I managed to meet an entire table of Aussies and Kiwis, a group of French trying to meet women with face paint, and Tax Boy, who joined us after much nagging by the boys. (who is this guy that would let you go out alone with 3 strange men?) They yelled at me a lot. Like when they found out I didn't know my local bartenders. I live 1 block from 3 pubs and have only been in 2 of them once. I now know the bartenders AND most of regulars. After they introduced me to the table next to us, Tony the local wagged his finger at me and said 'You haven't been being social'. sigh... We spent the evening there and then returned the following day to watch the Ireland v. Wales match, the final of the 6 nations Rugby tournament. It still looks like little kids running and tackling, but I must say, after we lost the match (moment of silence please) the tv was switched to a soccer match that just seemed... well... tame, boring, not nearly enough to hold my interest. I kept thinking 'tackle him'. Oh dear...
Most of the people we met were Americans, not suprising since most of the Irish leave Dublin because of all the damn tourists. We met people from Tennessee, Chicago, North Carolina, and most unexpectedly, Houston. Turns out one of the girls we met used to work with Mike. And they ran into each other at O'Brians Mercantile. And thank god, because they had the only place left to sit down. I mean, they were a good addition to the group! Yeah, that's what I meant... good addition.
Oh dear, what else? Tax Boy took us for a drive into the country on Sunday. We ended the day at Johnny Foxs Pub, a regular stop on the tourist route. He told us that they had purchased a bus when the smoking ban went into effect and installed it outside the pub calling it the smoking bus, so their patron could enjoy their pint and their cigarette without getting rained on. The city put a stop to that, so they now have the only non-smoking smoking bus that greets you from the parking lot.
So I guess what I'd say about the weekend is, it's all a lot of fun and I would do it again next year. But I'd make more time for the parades and the artists windows and all that. It was as crowded as I'd been warned, but all in good fun. Saw my share of those that had been a wee bit overserved. Including one poor soul sitting on the sidewalk, head dangling between his knees, wearing a t-shirt that said 'Celebrate with Guinness'. Lots of women wearing far too little clothing, and many, many people with face paint. I myself had the French version of the Irish Flag on my cheek.
I'll post some photos shortly, but I've to to get permission from Kevin and Chris first. And I've got to scan mine. Now that I've recovered, it should be much easier.
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