Yin And Yang The St. Patty's Day Experience

So it was my big bachelor weekend; no wife, no kid, just me and the cats. I'm here to state that I may be growing up a little bit. Even with no rules, even though it was my weekend to run screaming through the streets with a bulging crotch, starting fires and singing badly, I kept it pretty in control.

I went out with the cast after rehearsal Friday night. I drank a couple of whiskies and was home by 1. I think I could kind of see where things were heading with the loud drunken babble rising and the sad illusion of self importance hiding behind the coats on the coat rack. I realized that I would rather enjoy my empty Saturday than curse my hangover. Plus, being at home, watching A Scanner Darkly and eating some frozen pizza sounded pretty good.

I woke up Saturday afternoon and went immediately to the couch where I flipped between watching movies and napping. I at first felt guilty for wasting a day in this fashion and then realized that I wasn't wasting a god damn thing. Who knew the next time I'd be able to spend a Saturday doing nothing. And so another nap I took. I considered shopping, but didn't. I considered going to the bookstore, but didn't. It wasn't until Saturday evening plans began to take form that I got moving.

I have to say that St. Patrick's Day is sort of amateurs night out. Every dickface from the suburbs crosses bridges to flood the urban bars and drink gallons of beer fortified with vitamin FD&C Green #3. I don't feel a need to put up with the sort of incompetence on display on St. Patrick's Day, and to celebrate the Irish in my blood, I will hunker down in a friendly corner, with others if they are available, and partake of the sacrament.

Saturday night was spent on a Guiness soaked nitrous cloud. Jason, Mandy and I started out at a pizza place packed with revelers in green and a middle aged cover band who only seemed to know songs by The Beatles and Neil Diamond (the occasional Van Morrison tune notwithstanding). Good pizza, nice manager who let us drink beer standing in his entryway and then helped us with a cut on our pitcher price.

We went back to rock M&J's place with some Black and Tans, some Irish Car Bombs, and some Whip It's. King Cracker was in effect, and I could feel the spirits of Mercedes and Hellby floating nearby and laughing. I was on a double balloon rush, listening to a song by The Smashing Pumpkins, when some sort of deep thought in regards to sex and death and drugs came floating up, but I promptly forgot it.

I again slept in Sunday, did some laundry, finally went shopping and to the bookstore. There was no hangover to fight, no party scars to ponder over, and I even attempted to counteract all the pizza devouring by having a salad and blueberry juice for lunch. That's when the whole grown up thing entered my mind.

While I love to get out for a little drunken nihilism, it's getting to a point where it's more a fun idea than a necessity. While I love spending time with my friends and that heady chance of getting into some sort of trouble, I'm also a fan of just sitting still for a minute and trying to catch up with the mad whirl of the world. And while I like to dip into a little irresponsibility from time to time, ultimately I miss Bif and I miss Riley and I'm okay with trading off a few drunken nights to spend an evening on the couch with my lady, to watch that kid smile his smile.