pinkmonkeybird

...busting up my brains for the words

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Keegan's st. paddy's day

The stars were so aligned as to bring me there around 9 p.m. I knew that it would be an Irish zoo tonight, but I went anyway. Fortunately, there was a parting of the Green Sea at the bar immediately upon my arrival. Sauntering up, I immediately ordered a Jameson and a Guinness.

Marty the bartender was wearing a kilt.
"How many people do you suppose are here right now?", I asked.
"I have no idea. 200."
I asked him if the bloggers were here tonight. No, they weren't. No way. Sure enough, peering around the room, I could not recognize a single face. Just past 9 o'clock the bagpipes came out. Naturally the crowd went absolutely bonkers over him. OMG. It's St. Paddy's Day and we're in an Irish bar and there are pipes and I'm drunk and I'm wearing green beads and a plastic green derby....Whooooooooooo! That's not me talking. That was the other drunk.

Now Terry comes along. "How are you?", he asks.
"I'm fine, Terry. Any bloggers here tonight?"
"Nope. You're the only one."

It's been a hard day's work and now I'm quaffing my second Guinness. A pair of gents are looking for a piece of the bar. One of them, a slightly portly gent with, yes, a plastic green derby, asks me if I would be so kind as to order them a pair of Guinness Extra Stouts. If so, I'll be treated to a Jameson. He showed me a beautiful silver flask. I figured another drink wouldn't do me much good at this point, so I offered to place the order anyway.

"God bless you." He would God Bless Me at least half a dozen times during our brief conversation.

We exchanged introductions. They were Jerome and Steve. Just then, the two bodies at my elbow moved away and J & S took their places. Jerome is my middle name and the shared name became the hot topic of conversation. My parents were married by Father Jerome.

"God bless you."

We chatted about St. Jerome. He once said that the Pope was the scarlet whore of Rome. I mentioned that I might go to mass on Easter Sunday at St. Mary's Basilica.

"God bless you. Are you sure you wouldn't like to have a lick of Jamison?"

By now I was wondering if the religion always accompanies the liquor. Jerome wanted to know what time I was attending mass on Easter. He might want to meet me there. I told him I didn't know, which is the truth. I have a tendency to have the intention of going to mass only to oversleep and miss the whole thing.

Still, I wondered if the flask of Jameson would be brought to mass.

Mindful of the clock I excused myself from the bar. Bidding Jerome and Steve goodnight (God bless you), I made my way to the bus stop. Rides are free tonight.

Saint Paddy's Day in Minneapolis is a generous time.

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