St. Patrick’s Day may be the only truly honest holiday. Although it has roots in the misty history of Ireland and remains an official holiday of the Roman Catholic Church, the true meaning of the feast day has evolved (some will argue devolved) into a universal holiday of drinking and merrymaking.
You heard it debauchery, drunkenness, slovenly behavior and emerald hued crimes against the fashion gods have all become “just part of the charm.” Not only are these activities encouraged, nay required, on St. Patrick’s day, they are the only thing people remember (depending upon the number of beverages) about this truly Irish day of celebration.
St. Patrick’s Day the only honest holiday!? How dare thee? Before you arrange for my excommunication, prepare the gibbet for a hanging or arrange a nice pile of wood for a soul cleansing stake barbeque, give this heathen a chance to explain.
While the United States alone has Ten Federal Holidays (St. Patrick’s Day sadly not one of them), the world at large has literally thousands of days of celebration. And some of them honor the truly bizarre (Japan’s Kanamara Matsuri celebrates the joys of the penis every Spring) wondrous (Sept 19th is Talk Like a Pirate Day, Arr!) and in some municipalities illegal (February 1st is Working Naked Day).
Therefore it must be the height of arrogance to suggest that St. Patrick’s Day tops the chart for holidays that pretend to be what they are. But I suggest an honest assessment will shine a light on the self-evident truth of my statement.
Christmas has morphed into a retailer’s dream where many kids recognize Santa more that Jesus. President’s Day Weekend has become the most beloved three days of the year for automobile pimps of all kinds, from mega-mall car retailers to Johnny’s Craptacular Car Depot. Even New Year’s Eve, a study in amateur depravity, remains burdened with unlikely, and mostly unfulfilled, resolutions to improve oneself in the coming year.
Yet a quick Internet search for the “True Meaning of St. Patrick's Day” uncovers several bizarre parables involving a bearded Romano-British monk by the name of Patricius who lived sometime in the 5th century AD (or CE for you egalitarian sticklers), killed a bunch of snakes and, oh yeah, brought Christianity to the heathen Fey Folk worshippers of Ireland. Even the Shamrock, a symbol not only of St. Patrick’s Day, The Boston Celtics and House of Pain, but of the very essence of Irishness, was empowered by St. Patrick who used its three leaves to teach the locals about the Holy Trinity.
While little remains today of the religious holiday (even the Republic of Ireland officially endorsed the party by the 1990s) the secular version of St. Patrick’s Day has done something few religions, political parties or pseudo scientific, new age movements have. St. Patrick’s Day is all-inclusive. Everyone is can join. Everyone is welcome. Whether thee be Irish, Inuit or Samoan, Russian, Jewish or Somali, St. Patrick’s Day welcomes you all, with just one caveat, “Enjoy Yourself.” As the saying goes “everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day.”
Sadly we Central Floridians have no river to dye green like our Irish brethren in chilly Chicago, cannot lay claim to 400,000 revelers like the folks in Savannah or march in a parade older than our beloved country like the Celtic loving Bostonians.
Yet, despite our Gaelic handicap there are plenty of places in Orlando to kick up your boots, swig a pint of Guinness and dance a jig with you best lass. Here’s where you’re likely to find me.
I find I have a hankering’ to see old dudes in fezzes drive wee cars, so I shoot up the few miles to Winter Park for their annual St. Patty’s Day parade. Since the sad demise of Orlando’s own parade, this jaunty, joyous, if small parade, is the only one we have in the Metro. After a brief lunch of Shepherd’s Pie at Fiddler’s Green I head downtown.
A short jaunt from my front door and I’m sitting across from the lovely, and authentically Irish, lassies at Lizzy McCormack’s. These off the boat imports, wondrous redheads all, welcome me with the clarion call of Irish hospitality, “What can I get ya’ darlin’?” A minute later a Smithwick’s mustache crest my upper lip and I am satisfied.
From there I hit The Harp & Celt on Magnolia for a pint before heading to my newest fav, The Lucky Leprechaun located in the tourist mecca (hell?) of I-Drive. From here on out the night may get fuzzy, but at least it will match my green felt Mad Hatter chapeau.
So this March 17th grab your favorite green apparel, whether it be green plastic Bowler hat, fuzzy chaps style britches or Shamrock plastered thongs (St. Patrick would likely disapprove), and jaunt down to any number of local watering holes that for at least one day are Irish too.
Drink, make merry and celebrate a holiday that exists for celebration. Erin Go Bragh.
Published in the March 2010 Issue of Drink Magazine.
