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It’s that time of year again. There are hordes of people just like this guy who were out at 6am here at River North in Chicago and the bars are packed to the gills. Last year at this time it was 80 degrees and beautiful (that will never happen again in my lifetime) but this year it is a more typical 32 degrees with a bruising wind. That won’t stop the fun though and everyone I run into is buying booze or taking cash from the ATM or trotting from bar to bar or waiting in line somewhere.
St. Patrick’s Day in Chicago has to be seen to be believed and I am not talking about dying the river green.
Cross posted at LITGM
My sister lives a couple of blocks from Western Avenue in Beverly where there is an annual St Pat’s Day parade. The parade was suspended the past three years because of unruly drunks but they are hoping those guys forget the way since last time. The area has a lot of Irish families who moved from South Shore 30 years ago. They are the same people who fly Irish flags in Grand Beach, Michigan from summer homes.
You are so beautiful.
I think my #2 son is somewhere in that mess this afternoon drinking himself stupid.
When I was in high school, the real Irish parade was a street near the high school. It moved west with the Irish. Guys used to paint the center line of the street green the night before the parade. I’ve forgotten the street name.
Pathetic plastic paddys
I was in only one, and only one, St. Patrick’s Day parade, back in the 80s. At the time, I was affiliated with a certain North Side Democratic organization which shall remain un-numbered. Leaving behind an astonishing amount of empty beer cans and bottles, our group reeled south from Hubbard on State St.
Eventually, we came to one of our many halts at Randolph. It was noticed, up on our left, that in the offices right above the Walgreen’s on the northeast corner was the presidential campaign HQ of the Reverend Jesse Jackson. In one of the windows was the man himself.
With great vigor, a colorful salutation to Jackson, his staff and racial harmony in general was extended by our group’s youthful enthusiasts, accompanied by the waving of hands and other friendly gestures.
The din of nearby bands and the scores of signs and posters carried by the group thankfully obscured what might have been misinterpreted by a casual observer.
The El ride back north holds a personal record for strangest CTA ride in daylight.
Had to go by my office downtown, forgetting there would be 100,000 visitors to the area, some drunk, a few belligerent.
A good reminder to never get within a mile of a St Paddy parade.
As a person of Irisj descent, I find the whole thing especially disgraceful and repulsive
I was there early so no one was publicly urinating or vomiting
Yet