March 18, 2008

• On This Date...

  My friends and I used to really do it up on St. Patty's Day.  It was pretty much The Event of the year for us.  It was a "holiday" that didn't have family obligations restricting our ability to truly celebrate with only one another.  And it was bliss.

   

  We would take the day off from work or school, if we weren't among the lucky to be on Spring Break from one or the other at that time.  Sometimes we even took the next day off, for good measure.  We would meet central at one girlfriend's house or another, drink our breakfast of champs, and hop on the train into San Francisco, often with a road soda in hand for the ride, conveniently disguised in a paper coffee cup, plastic sipper lid and all.

   

  Our first destination was the annual live broadcast by local faves S and NN.  Oftentimes we made it there just as the broadcast was ending, but one time that I can vaguely recall, another friend got herself a moment of radio fame answering a trivia question.  Responding to something, at least.   All I can remember is that her answer was characteristically witty.  Another year we captured the attention of several fire fighters who also made that destination an annual tradition.  We saw them there at least two years in a row, them being the latter years of our tradition.

   

  Our second stop on the SPD's partyathon was afternoon cocktails at a local institution on Powell Street best known as the Gold Dust Lounge.  Some ventured a champagne cocktail, others an Irish coffee to keep it festive, while yet others kept it real with another pint.  The last year that the celebration was fully in tact, my Irish coffee spilled all down my festive green-striped shirt.  It didn't phase me or anyone I encountered from there on out, for that matter.  One year we even ran into members of the Morning Show there.  Clearly the word got out that the GDL was the after-party place to see and be seen (which I like to credit to our influence, even if it's far from the true).

   

  Sometime before the commute-hour, we make our way to the BART train to head east to our usual stomping grounds.  Sometimes we had time to catch a catnap and recupe, but usually we only had time to grab a bite and keep the party train rolling on.

   

  Our favorite local bar band usually played at whichever bar tended to be our current haunt of choice around town.  We would spend the rest of the night dancing and drinking whiskey, hoping the bartender wouldn't cut us off just yet.  One by one, our friends who didn't have the fortune of the next day off would drop out of the race and head home.   But by last call there were at least two of us still standing and able to cross the finish line.

   

  A few years ago, our plans started to change.  Friends got married, starting having families and the core participants kinda just fell away from the tradition.  I think we all carry a bit of longing for those times still, and I wondered today if there will ever be a time that we will decide to reclaim the tradition, even if only in part.  I hope there will come a day when we can, but if not, I will at least still carry the memories of SPD's passed.

  ***

   

  I just got home from my 2008 celebration.  I arrived at our friendly neighborhood bar a few hours and several BAC points late.  It was quite surreal walking in cold to festivities in full swing.  But I have other things to be working on right now; I was late because working out was a priority today.  And I was home at the stroke of 11pm because making it to my 8am dentist appointment in the morning is another.  Not to mention, the town was crawling with five-oh.  Making it home unscathed: highest of priorities.

   

  So yes, maybe we are old.  But I still hold out hope that we will someday reclaim our rightful place on SPD.  With careful orchestration, it will happen, if even to add one last day of memories to the vault.

  • 2:58 am
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