Sometimes, celebrating St. Patrick’s Day is weird for a number of reasons. Whether it be due to the fact that California doesn’t boast extremely high populations of Irish people (excluding our Copy Editor Liam Brown as well as actor Liam Neeson) or simply because not all of us are old enough to legally drink.
Here are some of our more dismal Paddy’s stories.
Trang Le, Photo Editor
I have no experience. Pinch me and be punched.
Micayla Vermeeren, Opinions Editor
I’ve been blessed with a birthday that falls two days before good ol’ Paddy’s. But, awfully enough, the universe has conspired against me and I’ll be working the day of. And I won’t be working just anywhere — I’ll be waitressing at a brewery in the heart of downtown. All my fun potential plans have been replaced with the guarantee of drunk customers and questionable tips. I am excited, though, to see just how people act. I’m thrilled for the regulars who always post up at our bar to moan at the fact that their normal seats are taken. I’m terrifyingly excited to see non-whiskey drinkers order a shot of Jameson for the giggles and choke before the shot glass hits their lips. I’m so ready to see the sea of cheap, green, Rite-Aid shamrock headbands and shirts with clovers plastered across the front.
But, if anyone tries to pinch me, I will not hesitate to coordinate an unfortunate accident in the center of the floor.
Madison D’Ornellas, Managing Editor
Two years ago I spent St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin, Ireland. I handled and enjoyed March 17 the way any Ireland first-timer would: I drank. A lot. And, according to friends I met at the Temple Bar (I think), I finished the holiday attempting to run through Phoenix Park in the wee hours of the morning. I don’t remember much, but I do remember the morning after, keeling over and dry-heaving during a St. Pat’s 5K onto some random street in Dublin surrounded by other hungover whippersnappers. Twas a horrible, beautiful two days.
Kevin Flores, Special Issues Editor
The Irish Cinco De Mayo and another bullsh*t consumer holiday… Happy puking, mates.
Yasmin Cortez, Social Media Editor
I remember growing up not really understanding why I celebrated St. Patrick’s Day but looking forward to it anyway. I expected four leaved clovers to wish on, running around looking for people to pinch and wearing so much green I could have looked like Shrek’s twin. I remember my mom decorating the house with St. Patrick’s Day supplies from Oriental Trading Company and going to Don Jose with my family for “special” green nachos. It was like a birthday party just for wearing green. Who would hate on that? I don’t drink nor am I Irish, and, yes, it is a dumb holiday (if you can even call it that) but like anything, it’s how you make it. My family made something lame into something memorable. They gave me something to look forward to and honestly the best memories are yet to come. So don’t be surprised if I show up looking like the Lucky Charms guy.
Miranda Andrade-Ceja, Arts & Life Editor
My only real memory of St. Patrick’s Day was that one time my family wasn’t broken and we went on a Carnival Cruise Ship to various resort locations in Mexico. It just so happened that we were there for St. Patrick’s Day, which meant my awkward, preteen self was stuck on a cruise ship with a bunch of really turnt 40 year olds wearing Shamrock hats.
I don’t care for the holiday.
Armando Jacobo, Asst. Social Media Editor
I don’t have a drunken story to tell or a fond memory of St. Patrick’s Day. To be honest I don’t think I’ve ever celebrated the day. I don’t have an article of clothing that’s green but when threatened with a pinch I can always rely on, “I’m wearing green-colored underwear.”
Liam Brown, Copy Editor Extraordinaire
Although I don’t think about St. Patrick’s Day too much myself, I come from an Irish family, so I’ve had my fair share of Reuben sandwiches and corned beef and cabbage to last me a while. But I won’t be with them for St. Patrick’s Day this year. I’ll be here in Long Beach, so my extent of a St. Paddy’s celebration will be eating one of those store-bought shamrock cookies someone’s bound to hand me. For all you Paddy’s partiers, though, have fun. Make sure you pronounce “Celtic” correctly (hard C, y’all). Enjoy your Guinness and your Baileys. I won’t be with you, but I’ll be saving my green shirt for Thursday.