Today is St. Patrick’s Day. Woo. Hoo. Note the lack of enthusiasm.
St. Patrick’s Day is probably my least favorite “holiday” of the year. Not because I don’t like the Irish. I like them just fine. Heck, in my varied pedigree, I’ve got some Irish in me somewhere. It’s just…working in the city on St. Patrick’s Day is no fun.
Sure, there’s the parade. Lots of people like parades. I am not one of them. Another thing I can safely blame on my parents- my dislike of parades. Being dragged to the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade every year as a kid, freezing on a street corner until I couldn’t feel my toes and then having my vision blocked by larger people sneaking in front of us. Why did we come early, then? And then the squeeze of the people behind us, pushing and shoving to get a better line of sight. Sorry, not my idea of fun.
Then there’s the drinking. Not me, mind you. I have to WORK. I’m talking about the faux Irish people who take off today and tomorrow to literally drink all day. Starting on the commute IN to the city this morning. By the time I go home, the train smells like vomit and those people who had shamrocks prettily painted on their cheeks are bleary-eyed and their faces are smeared with streaks of green goop. They’ll be loud and smelly and will pick a fight with you if you shoot them dirty looks for singing “Danny Boy” at the top of their lungs. AND getting the lyrics wrong.
But the real reason I dislike St. Patty’s Day?
I hate kelly green. I love hunter green and chartreuse and even mint green. But kelly green turns my stomach and makes me see red.
I have no idea why. I wonder if one of those parade goers when I was a kid wore kelly green and stepped on my frozen toes.