Irish for a Day (#33)

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I woke up early this morning to the sound of my alarm clock thinking, “This is going to be a fantastic day. I’ll put on a green tee-shirt, watch a festive parade, eat massive quantities of corned beef and cabbage, look for four-leaf clovers and pots of gold, and visit my local pub for a wee bit of ice-cold Guinness.” A few seconds later, as I hit the snooze button, I realized it was Tuesday, and I had to go to work. “Wow, this really sucks,” I thought to myself.

I’ve often wondered why Saint Patrick’s Day always seems to fall on a weekday. I also haven’t figured out how a solemn and religious Catholic holiday, which celebrates a famous Saint who helped bring Christianity to Ireland, turned into a day of excessive drinking, making a fool of yourself, and being carried home by your friends at two in the morning. Kind of crazy don’t you think?

I guess it’s all in good fun. With all the problems in the world, maybe we all need a day where we can all join together as one. Someone once told me that on Saint Patrick’s Day, everyone is Irish. So, if you’re in a bar and you see a seven-foot tall African-American man with dreadlocks, wearing a bright green tee-shirt that says, “I’m from the Irish Hood,” do me a favor. Buy him a shot of Irish whiskey, or a pint of green beer, and say, “Patrick says hey.”

I’ve always wondered why Saint Patrick’s Day is now being called Saint Patty’s Day. Do you think, when he hears the name Patty, Saint Patrick is turning over in his grave? If he were here now, he’d probably be saying,

“Patty? Why, that was me sister’s name. Call me Patty, will ye. I just might bring all them snakes back to bite the crap out of ye. When yur knee-deep in slithering reptiles, you’ll be calling me Patrick soon enough. That you can be sure of.”

Do you think the legends are true? Did Saint Patrick really drive all the snakes out of Ireland? Maybe they rented a U-Hall truck and moved themselves. They might have even gotten tired of Irishman stumbling out of pubs at three in the morning, and stepping on them. If he did rid Ireland of snakes, where did they go, and how did they get there? Imagine the sight of millions of snakes gathered at the edge of the Irish Sea as their leader speaks.

“Okay guys, we’ve got to make a break for Great Britain. That old guy up on the hill with the big stick isn’t using it for firewood. It’s going to be a rough swim, but if we stick together we can make it. If you start having trouble just remember to keep moving your arms, and kicking your feet………..Hey, wait a minute……arms?…..feet?…….Oh crap!”

Do you think that maybe Saint Patrick overlooked a snake or two? I guess it wouldn’t be any consolation if you got bit outside Flannigan’s pub after downing a few pints, dropped to the ground in pain, and as things were going dark, heard Saint Patrick say,

“Whoops, sorry….. Missed one.”

There is one thing about Saint Patrick’s Day that bothers me…..leprechauns. Maybe it’s the way they’re portrayed in movies that creeps me out. Have you seen any of those leprechaun movies? I just watched one called, “leprechaun: Back to the Hood.” I could be wrong, but wouldn’t you think a three-foot tall, gnarly old man with a hideously disfigured face, long, razor sharp fingernails, and wearing bright green knickers, might just stick out a little in the hood?

All the Leprechaun movies I’ve ever seen, always have the same basic plot. An ancient, grumpy old Leprechaun looking for his gold, which he’s accumulated over the centuries by making shoes, kills as many stupid people as he can, in every imaginable way possible. Is there anyone out there who is really afraid of a leprechaun? I can hear it now as the evil leprechaun approaches a group of people in search of his missing gold.

“Run for your lives! Here comes a three-foot man in green leotards. Oh the Horror!”

You would think that a group of healthy adults in the prime of their lives, could handle a tiny man with skinny little bow legs and tiny arms that look like they came from a dinosaur. The leprechaun’s legs look like sticks, and are only one foot long, yet he still manages to run down fleeing teenagers, who are like giants in comparison.

I guess I better get going. I just finished a delicious bowl of Lucky Charms cereal for breakfast, and I’m going to dye my Golden Retriever, Chase’s fur green, before leaving for work. I know it’s silly, but he loves Saint Patty’s Day. Every year, for one magical day, he becomes an Irish Setter.

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About Patrick Dykie

I'm a simple, middle class family man, living a quiet life in eastern Pennsylvania with my wife and two sons. I love to write and make people laugh. During the day, I'm an account representative, and at night I'm working hard to be a writer. I've faced some things over the past few years that have slowed me down in my dreams, but I have always been an optimist. I also have a love of life, and believe it is a precious gift. I wish you all well on your own journeys.
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One Response to Irish for a Day (#33)

  1. Don’t have an Irish drop of blood in me and never celebrated the day–I figured enough people do that! Hope you had a good one, Patrick. (Oh, but I can manage a pretty decent Irish brogue!) 🙂

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