Riding through the streets, I watched as people emerged from their wintertime cocoons, blinking and sniffing the air, which, it should be noted, bore the fragrance of fast food, cigarette smoke and refuse.
Laughter and joviality (and bagpipes?) echoed down the narrow corridor of Sansom street, as I pedaled along, navigating potholes and pedestrians. Throngs of people in green t-shirts, adorned with tacky plastic accessories, clustered around the entrances of bars and pubs, some kissing passionately, others woo-ing, flicking cigarette butts into the street, stumbling off of curbs, animatedly hailing cabs...
"What a mob scene..."
The sun-deprived masses did give off a palpable electric energy, an Electric Feel if you will (sorry, had to squeeze that in there).
I rode on home, a bit wistfully, as I would not be partaking of this communion.
Of course Saint Patrick's Day has developed a reputation as a novelty holiday, an early-spring excuse for people to get together and...drink heavily. It's a decidedly American Irish Catholic celebration (do people in Ireland even observe it?).
Yet knowing these things, and being aware of the sham, I still feel compelled to don my "Everyone is Irish on Saint Patrick's Day" novelty vest sponsored by Jameson Irish Whiskey, double fist a few green colored Girls' Lights, get my groove on and toast the fact that my mother's maiden name is O'Neill.
 |
| sorry hombre, maybe next year |
But, I won't. I am abstaining from the "al-ky-hawl" these days, and it ain't always easy.
Okay time for a side note: J and I recently watched The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia... It's a documentary about this legendary clan of people residing in Boone County who make the TV show Intervention look like Sunday school.
It's one of those movies you watch and say, "Well, at least we're not those people." Hank III even wrote a song about 'em. Here's a clip of the feature:
So anyway, during the film makers' interviews, the members of the White family keep referring to booze as "al-ky-hawl." I immediately took a liking to the West Virginian pronunciation, so "al-ky-hawl" it is!
Well, I guess in my case, al-ky-hawl it's not. See, the food restrictions don't bother me in the least; I don't always have the best diet, but I periodically go on these ascetic tangents where I eat only raw vegetables and drink herbal tea, things of that nature. As a good friend of mine says, "I can survive on a handful of rice."
Giving up drinking is different. Part of it is habit, another aspect is relaxation, and a third is social. It feels like several facets of my life have been interrupted simultaneously. It sure is difficult to maintain willpower when I'm not even sure what the purpose of this "sacrifice" is.
I have made it this far (one week and three days) mostly because I want to see if I can do it--and I am curious about the outcome, if there is one. Can you tell it's been a long day and I could use a glass of wine right about now?
In any case, this reveals the reason that my blog posts appear in countdown format--as soon as Lent is over, I am havin' a drink! Time and place TBA ;)
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