The story might be a couple of weeks late, but it’s still March. Cheers to the Irish!
The alarm on my phone beeps loudly into my ear. I’ve purposely placed my phone under my pillow, so there would be no chance of sleeping through the alarm. It’s 6 A.M. Any other day of the year, including Christmas and my birthday, I would not wake up this early in the morning. Of course, I’ve had to wake up earlier for work occasionally, but I am grumpier than a mama bear in winter on those days. This day though, March 17th, I quite literally jump out of bed to start my day. The house is still dark, the sun barely up in the sky. My friends are all sleeping in various places. This is also one of the few days we still get together, putting our busy lives to the side for one day of frivolous, ever ridiculous, behavior.
I step around the sleeping bodies, around the air mattresses and suitcases and jump into the shower. I let the water run cold for a few minutes to shock the last bit of sleep from behind my eyes. Not only do I start this day early because it is my favorite day, but be
cause it’s necessary. Sharing one shower with eight or more girls, depending on how many people could make it out, means shower time must start early if we want to be ready to go before 5 P.M.
When I step out of the shower, some of the girls are already waking up. Coffee is brewing—with Bailey’s of course, and breakfast is about to begin. Every year, we make green eggs, green pancakes, EXTRA bacon and a few other sides we decide to make that year. It’s always a mouth-watering, hearty breakfast, the perfect meal to start the holiday.
I quickly throw on pair of sweats as the next chick hops into the shower. I start pouring cups of coffee—half Bailey’s—and passing them around. The girls who are STILL asleep, I quickly pounce on, yelling at them in a terrible Irish accent and jumping on their beds. By 8 A.M. breakfast is ready for devouring and everyone has showered. With breakfast, everyone has a choice of drink, as long as it includes alcohol. This may sound like a bit of a drinking problem, but on St. Patrick’s Day, it’s perfectly okay to start your day with a drink. Choices include: Bailey’s Coffee, Mimosa, Whiskey or just go ahead and crack open a beer.
I quickly scarf down my breakfast, burning the roof of my mouth, but I don’t have time to sit and eat. My chore for the morning is about to begin. No
t only do we dress up in various shades of green, I paint up everyone’s faces as well. I’ve always enjoyed doing other people’s makeup, and holidays like St Paddy’s or Mardi Gras are great for getting creative with it. I set up my makeup station in the living room, spreading out the various eye shadows, eyeliner, glitters and more. I am a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to doing makeup, so even if the outcome is a crazy leprechaun face, I take special care to make it look just so. I take a few gulps of my beer as I let the liquid liner dry; and one of my friends brings me a shot of whiskey. Another friend brings me a jello shot.
Jello shots are one of my favorite treats about this day. Not to brag, but the jello shots I make are delicious; orange jello with Whipped Cream Vodka, and green jello with Malibu. We made them the night before, around 150 little cups of green and orange taking up all the space in the fridge. By the time I finish everyone’s makeup, most of the jello shots are gone. I can handle a bit of alcohol before I get sloppy, so I have no problem finishing everyone’s makeup with precision. I look around at all the sparkling little leprechaun’s I’ve created and smile, perhaps a little drunkenly. I smile again to myself, to have so many good friends to spend this day with. Not many people are so lucky. Luck of the Irish, perhaps?
We each grab another jello shot and cheers to us, cheers to friends, parades, parties and all the memories we were about to make, but probably won’t remember. I take the shot, and forget the rest.