I’ve never gone out for St. Patrick’s Day, let alone St. Patrick’s Day in the city. I’ve been assured that I will either love it, or hate it vehemently. I’m not sure how I feel about spending the night among masses and masses of people (I’m not claustrophobic, but I don’t do the best in crowds. Depending on my mood, an overly crowded subway car will prompt me to get off and wait for the next train.)
But it is the First-Annual-I-and-I-Friday, so I’m excited. Originally we were going to go for Israeli food for dinner, but duh, it’s the Sabbath, and all Israeli places are closed. Thus, it’s Russo-Polish food tonight (“There are lots of Jews in Russia and Poland”/”Well there were a lot of Jews in Russia and Poland”)
Then we frequent the seediest Irish pubs that Midtown West/Hells Kitchen has to offer. I can’t wait. I’m a bit nervous about the trek back to Queens tonight, as due to logistics, there’s nowhere else I can really crash. Normally, I have no problem coming home late-late nights by myself, even though I walk 10 minutes from the subway to my apartment. But because of all the extra drunk people, I’m inclined to be a bit more cautious. Although someone pointed out that the hardcore celebrators took today off and will be drunk long before it’s time for the 9-5ers to head home. We’ll see.
