Irish Bacchanal

I don’t really DO bacchanals any more. But last night was a lunatic bacchanal. SO. MUCH. FUN. We hooked up with an entire rowdy group from West Virginia, all wearing green hats, and green shirts – and we had to sign their shirts – and there were beers drank – and beers spilled – and then one random girl showed up with two huge pizzas – for the entire crowd (no food at the bar … so this needed to be rectified). I love that girl. She didn’t know any of us … but she knew the entire bar needed food.

There was this one poor guy Morgan who – I have no idea why – but the entire bar, randomly, would start to chant his name … calling upon him to chug the rest of his beer. “MorGAN MorGAN MorGAN MorGAN …” And Morgan – who was hilarious – would down beer after beer in one gulp. The man truly was amazing. I didn’t know Morgan before last night – and he now is a legend in my own mind. We acted like we all were lifelong friends. Did you know that most architects are colorblind and gay? We befriended an entire crowd of architects and one of them told us this little-known fact. None of the guys we met last night were gay, but two of them were colorblind. hahahaha Morgan sat down at our table. He was introduced to all of us. “And what do you do, Morgan?” someone asked. He said, “I’m an architect.” I shot at him flatly, “Are you colorblind or gay?” Morgan had not been there for the colorblind/gay conversation – so it was as though he had sat down with a table of lunatics. Why is this strange girl shooting these questions at me?? But he took it in stride, (and I’m telling you, the guy is a legend – nothing ruffled him) and said, “Neither!” One of the other architects said to me, “Damn, you just became a sniper for a minute.”

There was a moment where one of the architects shoved his friend angrily and said, confrontationally, “You’re NOT fighting China?” I cannot explain the history of that moment … or why it was so damn funny … so much would be lost in translation … Suffice it to say, that was the first thing I thought when I woke up this morning, and I burst out laughing. Like: this guy was PISSED that his friend was NOT fighing China in some future war. Even just writing this much is lessening the funny – we all were literally crying with laughter.

Beers. More beers.

All of us standing and shouting: “MOR-GAN MOR-GAN MOR-GAN …”

At one point, this really drunk dude with long curly blonde hair and a peaceful beautiful face stood up on his chair – and started to try to make an announcement to the entire bar. It was URGENT to him that he somehow communicate with all of us. But it was way too loud in the bar – no one paid any attention – and he stood up there, alone, waving his arms, and shouting to no avail. Johnny and I were like, “Holy shit … Jesus is here … he’s trying to speak to us …” It looked like Jesus. But a WASTED Jesus. Johnny and I tried to tune in to what he was saying and all we heard was something like: “Germany will rise again …” We were like ohhhhh shit! We could not stop laughing after that. He looked so peaceful – this beautiful face, and long hippie hair … and he was shouting German nationalistic statements. Dude, please don’t start screaming about Germany rising again. He almost got thrown out of the bar. The enormous bouncer came over and tried to calm Jesus down – giving him a warning. Half an hour later, Jen and I were up at the bar, waiting for the bartender to notice us, and we turned around, and we saw Jesus, even MORE drunk, being held up by his two friends, and he was STILL trying to make his announcement. They kept trying to suppress him, and … dammit … he just SO NEEDED to communicate with a large group of people. He could not be stopped. Jen and I were like, “He’s still goin’! Still tryin’!”

We had an enormous group discussion about rectal exams. It was AWESOME. There was a doctor in our group, and he told us about the first rectal exam he had to do. AWESOME. More beers!

The noise was so out of control that when I had to make a phone call I had to go outside. The streets were absolute PANDEMONIUM. Now I’m actually not a big St. Patty’s Day fan. Why not? Same reason I’m not a New Year’s Eve fan. Not too wacky about amateur drunks. I enjoy people who can hold their liquor. But the parade of drunken people on the street was, indeed, very entertaining. Especially the big meaty macho guys – strolling by wearing green velvet top hats with Amish beards attached on a string. Smoking, walking, talking … as though they weren’t wearing anything weird at all. So funny.

But while I was out there I saw something pretty cool. There were two Irish girls and an Irish guy – real Irish – I heard their accents, and their faces were obviously Irish. Anyway, they were smoking, hanging out, and I heard the two girls start singing – they were adorable, by the way. Little short spiky haircuts, with plastic barettes, wearing jeans, big boots – They were not drunk. They seemed sane. The two girls were laughing, and singing a song together – the song had many many verses – and I heard “Finnegans Wake” over and over and over … some long-versed Irish folk song – they kept trying to remember lyrics, one would take over, the other would flounder, then catch up – It was obviously a song from childhood, one they were pulling up out of the memory banks. Much laughter between the two of them – and then one of them, I kid you not, started river dancing on the sidewalk. The guy who was with them started guffawing with laughter, saying, “Oh shit …” lighting another cigarette – The other girl stood up and they started step-dancing around each other, singing “Finnegans Wake”. They were goofy, sweet, lively, and I felt really happy that I had witnessed it. On an insane street, packed with drunken Americans, dressed up in green and gold with flashing green necklaces and shamrock hats, etc. – two Irish girls started riverdancing, unselfconsciously, just enjoying each other, and enjoying the memory of that song. Beautiful!

Back inside.

The bartender looked so much like Philip Seymour Hoffman that I honestly wondered if it WAS Hoffman, and he was there researching his next role, as a harassed bartender on St. Patrick’s Day.

The bar became ONE. That almost NEVER happens here. Not like it did in Dublin that one night.

But last night – 85 people BONDED. We became ONE. We were all in this thing together, this St. Patty’s Day Bacchanal together.

Mor-GAN Mor-GAN Mor-GAN Mor-GAN!!!