Where's My Phone?

Yesterday was the St. Paddy's Day parade in Delray Beach. It was also the annual St. Paddy's Day party at the home of friends of mine. It is a beer chugging, car-bomb shooting drink fest that those who have been in the past rarely miss. That it happened the night before the time change means that I nearly missed this morning.

For those of you who couldn't attend the parade, here's what it's like: 10,000 drunks lining

Atlantic Avenue

watching 1,000 drunks ride by on flatbed trucks and fire trucks. It's an excuse to brush shoulders with drunken strangers and see how many beers you can quaff without barfing. I used to hang out at the bar at City Limits for this event. I never saw a second of the parade. I had a friend who bartended at the outside bar there. I spent the afternoon there with friends. Some of the bagpipers would show up after the parade and play a few songs. That's the only thing that makes the parade worth watching and I would get my bagpipe fix any way, so why watch the parade?

If it hadn't been for the fire fighters of South Florida yesterday, there wouldn't have even been a parade. Three quarters of the parade was marching fire men, fire men on fire trucks or businesses who had hired a fire truck for their employees to ride on. After the first hour, I had seen all the fire trucks and fire men I cared to see. I mean, really, how many fire trucks can you watch drive by with their lights blinking and sirens howling?

I had a couple of beers, squeezed through the crowd and went back to my friends' house. Last night was the St. Paddy's Day party of St. Paddy's Day parties. It was a rip-roaring shot fest that always gives birth to war stories galore. When I remember them, I'll share.

So today I am recovering. I will soon find my phone – I hope – and get in contact with those who I have plans with this afternoon. Does anyone have an aspirin?