St. Patty's Parade (or mommy has to pee, hold my beer)

St. Patty's Day parade in Pittsburgh. And it's now the day after such strangeness, randomness, funniness and bizarre twists. If this had been a movie, it would have been like a comedy with a surprise ending that cost $200 to go see. Green beer is expensive.

When I woke up today, I couldn't speak above a croak. I asked my buddy Rich what was wrong with me and he was like, "Dude, you laughed so much yesterday, I'm surprised you can make a sound." Of course, I'm sure all the alcohol didn't help either. Today at the gym I was a still on the treadmill. I was dripping pure alchohol. And I had gas. Come next to me to jog!

Still, when you've laughed so much you can't talk the next day, you've lived well, I think.



The very first thing I did was park at Station Square in order to walk down to Market Square. I got there around 9:30 and people were grilling in the parking lot. I donned my green Dublin zip-up, grabbed my sunglasses and rolled. My plan was to park where I would end the day. If only I had ESP and could have parked in Mt. Lebanon.

When I got to Market Square I went immediately to the Oyster House for my first drink of the day.

"Hello Mr. Guinness."
"Why, hello Dan. Do you know it's only 9:45 in the morning?"
"Shut the Fuck up, Mr. Guinness or I will drink the rest of your family and make you watch."
"Perfect time for a nice cold beer, don't you think?"
"That's right."

Oh, I drank the rest of that fucker's family anyway. I hate mouthy beer.

After I put down the Guinness (It was for my sister in San Francisco. She loves Guinness and never, ever, ever reminds me that she's been to the plant {read shrine} in Ireland.) I switched to the green beer yards out in the square. I was determined to drink enough to turn my pee green.*

It was already packed with people. My friend Rich wasn't meeting me until after he bought Jimmy Buffet** tickets so I sat down on the park wall and people watched. I figured something interesting would happen. It often seems to.

First off K-Rock, you suck. Someone might have mentioned to you that this was a ST. PATRICK'S DAY PARADE! Thanks for the many hours of heavy metal, jerks. I guess you didn't get the memo, but I can tell you that's pretty much why EVERYONE WAS DRESSED IN GREEN. It's not like 10,000 people called each other the night before to color-coordinate.

"You're wearing green?"
"Yeah? Me too."
"Oh, we'll look so cute! Why don't we call everyone and tell them to wear green too!"***

Within 20 minutes, two things had happened.

1. I had been approached by every street person in Pittsburgh and asked for money. Seriously, this one guy said he was an ex-boxer and kept making me punch him in the chest. I bought him a beer and we split his soda bottle filled with grain alcohol. His name was Tony. I was scared.

2. A random cute girl sat next to me and we started hanging out. Turns out she had like five kids and no husband. She was back in school to become a para-legal. I was increasingly nervous that she would get pregnant just sitting next to me. I mean FIVE KIDS. I didn't know sperm could travel through the air, like a virus. I eventually ran away after she dragged me to some club called Catonas and tried to dirty dance with me. Six kids was not in the cards. I didn't want to get anybody pregnant before noon.



This little girl was one of a group of seven Japanese tourists that were sucked into the celebration. They spoke very little English, but were very nice. Later, when it got dark, they wandered into the city and were sold for parts.



I loved this guy's outfit. I kept running into him all day and he looked exactly the same. Two yards of green beer in hand at all times. He's my new hero.

The people wearing Braveheart outfits should take note. This is how it's done. By the way, Braveheart was Scottish. You fuckers probably liked the heavy metal from K-Rock.****



This eight-year old was in front of me waiting in line for the port-o-potty. When mom got to an empty, she turned around, gave her eight-year-old the green yard of beer to hang on to and said: "Mommy's got to pee, can you hold her beer for her?"

Son, mommy's a drunk. Good luck with the counseling. That's mom with the cigarette trying to pry the beer out of his hands after using the bathroom. God bless you.*****



This is Market Square sometime during the day. At this point that's all I'm sure about. If you look closely, you can see K-Rock sucking hard in the background.



At some point I went to watch the parade. I was running from the really fertile chick. Hey, It's a marching band.



These are people on a bridge. Just thought you'd like that clarified.



Even Uncle Sam and the Statue of Liberty were there. They never do these gigs. We're talking high-end cool parade.



And then a bunch of ATVs rode by and I realized I was back in Western Pa. I did however get a ride.



I think this is where I got a Shamrock sticker on my cheek. I asked the girl as she was giving them to people, she looked up, saw me, and said "Whoa, you're kinda cute." Thank you, sticker girl. You made my early afternoon.

I later forgot I had a sticker on my face until the combination of alcohol and rain fused it directly to my skin. So I've got that going for me, now.



This is the Beauty Queen crowd wave done to perfection. If you look hard, in the background you can see K-Rock still sucking.



When the parade was over around 2 pm, the last truck rolled through on the tail. It was a beer truck. You know you're in a good parade when they have to bus in the booze. It was like a trail car. I think they were scooping up sober people and forcing alcohol down their throats.

Thankfully, I don't know anybody that works for a competing beer company and will give me shit about putting a BUDWEISER picture on the blog. Mmmmm, Budweiser.



This is Station Square where my buddy Michael Murphy and his band played. I felt like such a tool writing that sentence. "Hey, uh, my buddy's in this band, you uh, maybe wanna check them out, sometime?" Total Keanu Reeves moment. Then my buddy Rich showed up and the really strange stuff started happening.



This bear was promoting a bar that wasn't even open yet. His handlers****** were passing the time by putting stickers on him because, hey, it's fun to abuse people in costume that can't defend themselves. I think eventually they put so many stickers on him he was completely immobilized. When it got dark, he was sold for parts.

As I was standing in line for beer I ran into people in knew from Erie. I heard someone yell "Dano!"******* and damn if it wasn't Murph, Angie and Denise. I've met Murph a few times while visiting my friend Scott. Last New Year's Eve I met Angie and Denise when we went to somebody's house for wine and cheese, pre-party style.

It was slightly awkward because I hooked up with Angie a bit that weekend and we really hadn't (by really, I mean never) talked again. Never got her phone number. She says "That'll be 2.30" In a really cute English accent, by the way. So, we pretty much ended up hanging out for the rest of the day. I think it was a case of mutual embarassment.



This was a mom swatting her daughter's ass with a green tamborine in time to the music from Mike's band. I'm not making this up. I asked. The son-in-law was watching the whole thing with the biggest damn grin I've ever seen on a man's face. Imagine the grin on my face if I land a date with Natalie Portman. His grin was bigger. This, this is why I go to see Mike's band. That moment has left me with so many unanswered questions and unwanted mental images.



Somewhere in here Julie came out of random nowhereness and raised the strange coincidence level of the day even higher. I was now positive I was in a David Lynch movie. She was cute, as always, despite the fact she was dressed in like seven layers of green, drunk and soaked to the bone.

I think she shrinks when you get water on her because when she jumped up for a hug, she was much smaller than I remembered. Really light. Unfortunately, I suspect that between the shrinkage and high green alcohol and clothing levels she eventually turned into a Leprechaun. I'm almost positive the picture above is her three hours later. I am sad. I'll never eat Lucky Charms again.

At this point my phone ran out of battery power. We took the train up to Mt. Lebanon. Pittsburgh, you have such a sorry excuse for a mass transit system. It is the K-Rock equivalent of mass transit.

A couple on the train (if you can even really call it a train) picked up a pizza box some lady had left behind on her seat as she drunkenly moved up and dropped it at her feet as they went to get off. Didn't say anything. Just threw it down near her and stood at the door in their opera clothes, looking very self-righteous.

I promptly asked them what it was like to go through life with the completely constipated face. At that point I had lost my ability to distinguish between inner monologue and outer dialogue. Oh, well. They glared at me. Somehow, they looked even more constipated. It made me laugh a lot. I will be punished for that, though. Damn you, Kharma.

We ate food at Pasta Too. Random people kept asking me how the parade was. I did a quick inventory and discovered I had:

1. A Dublin jacket on. (But I knew that. That one wasn't a surprise)
2. A Shamrock sticker permanently adhered to my face.
3. A foam Liberty crown hat on backwards.
4. Beads.
5. In inability to keep from saying things I probably shouldn't.

The food was good. We went to Molly Brannigan's afterwards. We drank. I had my favorite vodka in the world.

Then we went to see Mike play at Finnegan's Wake on the North Side where I promptly fell down the very small stairs leading to the dance floor every fucking time I walked down them. I'm not kidding, like five times I feel down those stairs. I can't wait to go back. Really.

I also totally got caught adjusting myself in public. Damn you, boxer briefs. If I had been wearing regular boxers and not the briefs I could have done the inside-the-pocket maneuver. Briefs compress and make casual adjustments difficult. They totally called me out on it, too.

Kharma had gotten me.

Sigh. "That'll be 2.30."

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*The only flaw in that rationale is that by the time you've had enough beer to pee green, you can no longer see colors.

**I've actually been to see Buffet once. I still don't know how that makes me feel. I hope it doesn't change the way you view me as a person.

***Seriously, K-Rock...you suck.

****You still suck, K-Rock. I was just thinking about the line from the movie Braveheart where he's saying "You can take my life, but you can never take my freedom," makes no sense. I'd be like, "Wait, lets win this by killing all the enemy." Battle cries are not inspiring if you're talking about how you're going to get killed. I'd like to live, thank you.

*****Someone had actually taken a shit in one of the johns on top of a bunch of empty beer cups. Drunk people were throwing the empties in the toilet until they overflowed and one loser dumped right on top of them. It was vile. Worse than watching a Nicole Kidman movie.

******I have a really funny story to tell you about being dressed as an ice cream cone at the Fayette County fair one year. Remind me to tell you sometime.

*******Dano is a localized call. When I hear it I know either the person knows me from Penn State or Erie. I have regionalized nick-names. I think everyone should. They're very helpful.

********I know three Murphs. Talk about weird. It's almost like a fucking club, now. If you ever find yourself in a conversation and have to stop the speaker and ask, "Which Murph are we talking about," you'll understand.