So St. Patrick’s Day is tomorrow. I’ve recently begun to celebrate this lovely holiday in which leprachauns dance and the beer is delightfully green. Why? Because it always falls during my spring break and let’s face it, I have nothing better to do.
This year I’ve happily recruited 2 people to join my in my St. Patrick’s Day festivities. Both ladies are teachers and therefore also experiencing a lame spring break in the midwest (not on an island.) Together, I’m hoping, we can say “Screw the island spring break getaway! We have green beer to drink, green shirts to wear, skinny jeans to rock, and good times to be had!” Yes, this year is set up to be great. However, being halfway to 50, I have some worries about what is actually going to happen tomorrow. Here are two scenarios I’ve created in my mind that may or may not happen:
Scenario #1) We three half way to 50’s arrive at the most Irish bar in town. The place is packed and we push our way through the crowd to find a table. We waltz to the table in our green attire, tall boots, and hair flowing in the breeze. (Well, it’ll probably be flat and a little snarly, but this is my fantasy ok?) We order some lovely green beverages and begin catching up on all that has happened over our spring break so far. We shoo away the men who just keep coming up to our table in attempt to buy us a drink. “Please,” I say, “I’m married!” (Again, this is my fantasy so don’t judge.) After several beverages we dance a little to our favorite songs and run into even more friends. We stumble out the door after a fun night of drinks and laughter. St. Patrick’s Day was a succcess!
However, there is always this possibility…
Scenario #2) I can’t find anything green to wear that looks cute. Someone calls to say they’re running late. My hair won’t stay curled, but looks gross flat. I pull it together and run out the door to meet my friends. We walk in and nobody is at the bar. Apparently, there is a free keg somewhere downtown and everyone went there. We easily grab a table and order drinks. There are no drink specials and no men grappling at our feet. We have a drink and then someone decides to make it an early night. Then there were two. We have one more drink and decide to head home. St. Patricks Day was a disappointment. Maybe next year…
When you’re halfway to 50, you just never know how the night will turn out. Sometimes people are in the mood to party like they’re 21 and sometimes people are tired and pack it in early. It’s like flipping a coin. But hey, pennies are lucky so maybe I could flip one of those tomorrow night. It’s the luck o’ the Irish!