I have decided that I love St. Patrick’s Day. Maybe it’s because I’m part Irish. Maybe it’s because both my brother and my dad are named Patrick. Or maybe, and most likely, it’s just because I love to drink.
Since this was the first year I could legally head to the various Ann Arbor establishments, I thought I would take full advantage of one of college students’ biggest excuses to drink.
So, I put on my Glasgow Celtic jersey and my leprechaun hat (a quality $5 Meijer purchase), and I went to pick up some friends of mine at 6 a.m. to head out for a jolly-filled day of drunken revelry. (I can’t say I got up because I was never really able to fall asleep — something that would come back to haunt me later)
The fun started with a 6:30 a.m. trip to McDonalds so that we would have out food in our stomachs and be ready to drink before the bars opened at 7 a.m. The people who worked there were surprisingly cheery at our presence, and they even told us to “have one for us.” And we did. More than one in fact.
I was feeling pretty great at this point, as I was telling the people who I convinced to come along with me that this was going to be the greatest day of our lives.
Then it was off to Conor O’Neill’s to start the day in a traditional Irish atmosphere. I had received word that the line could possibly be out the door, so I was expecting the worst. But the wait to get in was nothing special, and a lot of the people inside were Ann Arborites having breakfast, not students. There was a $5 cover (yes, I paid a $5 cover to get into a bar at 7 a.m. I haven’t decided yet whether I’m proud of this or not) But everyone got free T-shirts, beads and stickers with lights, so it was well worth the purchase.
After downing a few pints of Guinness, taking in an Irish Car Bomb and starting a drunk dial fest for the ages, it was time to head off to my 10 a.m. class. While many people in my drunken state may have just blown off class, I thought it would be fun to show up in my cheery spirit. This, in hindsight, was not the best of ideas.
My corporate strategy class was replaced for the day with a lecture by some bigwigs at a corporate real estate firm in Texas in a large auditorium (attendance was taken). This would normally cause someone like myself to head to the back.
But in my infinite wisdom, I told my professor beforehand that I was bringing a photographer to class. So he greeted me when I arrived and reserved a seat right in front.
I passed out five minutes later. During my 45 minutes of being in a comatose state, according to eyewitness reports, I was referred to by the lecturers twice, all to the entertainment of the 150 people in attendance.
I then proceeded onto my English class, where I managed to stay awake and even participate and contribute in a somewhat coherent manner. Or at least I thought so. My classmates would likely tell you otherwise.
It was then time to head off to Scorekeepers to see if I could catch some of the NCAA Tournament games that were going on. But after an unsuccessful attempt to find a table, I went with two others back to my apartment to watch some basketball.
I was never really able to stay awake to watch any of the games. I passed out on my couch about five minutes in, and the next couple of hours subsequently disappeared.
But that ended up being a good thing. I needed the rest, and the basketball games weren’t that good anyway.
If this was any other day, my adventure might have ended right there. But this was St. Patrick’s Day, and I had already done enough sleeping.
So then I went off to Dominick’s to take in some beer and sangria. The beer wasn’t tasting as good as it was earlier, but it was still fun walking around and meeting some new folks, including a group of girls who were counting down the minutes until that night’s episode of “The O.C.” For their sake, I hope Ryan and Marissa got back together.
Then — after a quick pit stop at In-N-Out to get a Red Bull — I went to the Brown Jug, which has to be one of the most packed places in Ann Arbor on St. Patrick’s Day. The place was supposedly going strong since 7 a.m, and still had a large line when I arrived in the early evening.
After that, I took off for Ashley’s, which featured a bagpipe player and a special on pints of green Labatt’s. While I enjoy Ashley’s, I was hoping that the place, although it was packed, had more of an exciting atmosphere. So, before I left, I was encouraged to go to the back of the bar and attempt to get people riled up. That didn’t go very well. Few people were even willing to slap my hand, and they were likely frightened by my appearance. Their loss.
So then it was off to Scorekeepers, again, for the infamous Thursday $2.50 pitcher special. It was there where I learned that you can get girls to do just about anything as long as you say you are from the paper and you have someone with a professional camera tag along.
My photographer and I eventually ran into some grad students who had prepared green T-shirts for the occasion with numbers and nicknames on the back. They looked more than ready for the IM Broomball Co-Recreation “B” division playoffs. Let’s just say that they had a thing for the camera. They later invited the group I was with to Pizza House, but we took a pass. But one of those girls ended up taking my hat. And if you’re reading, I want it back.
Considering how much I drank, I felt pretty good the next day. I even got a lot of (cough, cough) school work done. So even though I was made fun of in front of 150 people, passed out on numerous occasions, plopped down $60 and ran around Ann Arbor like a leprechaun, I had a pretty great time. The only question I have is: Why can’t we all do this every week?
Bob Hunt would like to thank Eric Ambinder for following him around for 17 hours with a camera. Bob still doesn’t know how the hell the camera didn’t break. And Eric would like to tell “The Little Mermaid” (don’t ask) that he would love for you to give him a call. Bob Hunt can reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.