“When after the Winter alarmin’,
The Spring steps in so charmin’,
So fresh and arch
In the middle of March,
Wid her hand St. Patrick’s arm on…”
~Alfred Percival Graves When I was little, my mother would take us to the Jazz Festival at SPAC. An all day affair that meant fried chicken wings and my mother’s onion dip. It meant sitting outside on the grass and eating by day and James Taylor by night indoors. On occasion we’d be walking around and see my father on the opposite side of the grounds where he’d have a tent and a grill set up. The difference between the two parents was that my mother would be filling up on coke while my father enjoyed an Amstel or three and cognac. It was during one year that I was given my first sip of Coor’s and promptly swallowed with a look of pure disgust. A look that conveyed my disappointment and bewilderment towards grown ups and their obsession with the fermented drink and why on earth would one enjoy drinking in the middle of the day.
The Spring steps in so charmin’,
So fresh and arch
In the middle of March,
Wid her hand St. Patrick’s arm on…”
~Alfred Percival Graves When I was little, my mother would take us to the Jazz Festival at SPAC. An all day affair that meant fried chicken wings and my mother’s onion dip. It meant sitting outside on the grass and eating by day and James Taylor by night indoors. On occasion we’d be walking around and see my father on the opposite side of the grounds where he’d have a tent and a grill set up. The difference between the two parents was that my mother would be filling up on coke while my father enjoyed an Amstel or three and cognac. It was during one year that I was given my first sip of Coor’s and promptly swallowed with a look of pure disgust. A look that conveyed my disappointment and bewilderment towards grown ups and their obsession with the fermented drink and why on earth would one enjoy drinking in the middle of the day.
I probably also believed that Santa Clause shoved his fat ass down the chimney and that an adult woman flew through my window to take my grimy baby teeth in exchange for a bright and shiny half dollar.
I’m practically a small child therefore I do not do well during an all day affair. I get tired and need a nap or a place to just put my head for a short while. I’m not really a marathon take it easy, yo, type person. Which is why my feelings towards an offer of VIP tickets to Shamrock fest* was met with trepidation, even though it meant free beer all day long (!!!) Which meant rejoicing for any day that begins with Bass and Heffevisen is a day to be extraordinarily grateful for.
I’ve been trying to piece the events of the day together, so as to come up with a comprehensive Pulitzer Prize winning recap. And yet the lasting effects of an innumerable amount of drinks, has left me mildly slack jawed that yes in fact I did say that. OUT LOUD. I only wish I had been a little more prepared and better with my copious note taking skills.
While I’m not completely sure how things are in other cities heavily populated by bloggers, I know that we DC bloggers are notorious for our coveted abilities to drink as much as possible without passing out or puking. Shockingly enough I am not an all day drink fest type girl. I’m more 5K than 26.2 miles if you catch my drift. Thus the reason for why I tend to stick to happy hour. ‘Hour’ being the operative hour. I almost vaguely remember DJ AM being there and that anytime someone said ‘falafel’ I had a pavlovian reaction and began drooling immensely. My eyes lit up because oh my hell, food. And this children, is why you should say no to the beer. Well that and because too much drinking often leads to fashion faux pas. It was almost like a throwback to the college days – for they were so long ago – when I mastered in keg stands and watching sorority girls show off their pink thongs. Those days were good.
Ahh memories.
And it seems that over the years I’ve gotten over my disdain for adults who drink in broad daylight. In fact, I now EMBRACE it. With two hands to boot.
*Many thanks to I-66, KassyK, Arjewtino, and Freckled K for putting up with my drunk ass all day long.
22 Comments
I learned to love all-day drinking when I lived in New Orleans. I possibly became a professional at it, though I’m sure I’ve lost my skills by now.
One of these days I am going to have to get out of my hermit crab world and meet some of you DC bloggers!
You are so darned cute.
I particularly love all-day drinking in Mexico. Or wherever, really.
janet: yes! please do come out. We’re really not all that scary. Ok well I’m a little frightening, but really that’s all. And you already knew that.
jezer: ha, thank you very much.
I may be in DC this summer so I’ll have to look y’all up. Because my family? Some of them are such non-drinkers. The rest of us have to wait for them to go to sleep so that the festivities can begin.
I’m with you when it comes to happy HOUR. But occasionally it is nice to go beyond the usual habits and explore the underworld of incessant and all day beer drinking affaires. Plus…they are a sign of spring that I so await.
Looks like fun!
Enjoy the boozing now, Toots, cause as we get older our bodies don’t handle it as well. Sigh.
It’s time for The Percolator… It’s time for The Percolator…
dagny: oooh please do. I’ll be fun. Promise.
girlgoyle: and it was such a lovely day as well. I love spring.
lisab: already, my body is saying ‘hmmmm, maybe you should rethink that fifth vodka tonic mmmmkay?’ It’s just so hard to give it all up.
i-66: the sad part is that I recalled very little of that until you just mentioned it. I also barely remember you leaving. So sad.
Look Ma, two hands!
So so so much fun. There’s nothing greater than a daytime beverage or twelve. But we don’t want to Bukowski out, so such a luxury should be reserved for special occasions.
So glad you had a great time! And double fisting as well, you make all us day drinkers so proud!
liz: ok, I borrowed that title, because that shit is funny. And the second I figure out how to add a link under a picture in flickr, I will link back to you. But the thought is there, promise.
freckled k: I’m pretty sure that saturday was the highlight of the past few weeks. I needed a good day of drinking with good people, to make things a little better. And no, I cannot do that more often. Did you not notice me sleeping at the bar by the end of the evening??
lissa: well that’s what I’m here for. And at some point I must hear about your Saturday of meeting Amy. Mostly I wonder if her adorableness caused you to die.
Oh yes…you are adorable!!
Looks like a good time was had by all. Well, except for the people that had to look at the thong all day. GAG!
Wasn’t there also a boob flash? I missed it but, according those lucky enough to see the teat, it was heavy with areola.
And you were fine. Valiant effort by all.
OMG. I looovvveeeeeee your hair. So cute and sassy.
I had the best time. Ahhhh free beer and I never.
Love it!
isabel: yeah the thong was a bit much and of course a male pointed it for me and then egged me on to take a picture and use the zoom.
freckled k: oh yes there was a boob flash and oh yes I did use the word ‘areola’ and now I’m going to go wash my mouth out with soap.
jes: cute and sassy is one way of putting it, or I look like I shoved my finger in a light socket while sitting in a hot bath. But thank you anyway.
kassyk: fucking fantastic day. Thank you so, so much for even putting it on my radar.
that’s my girl, two fisting it! (ooh, that didn’t sound so good.)
as an irish girl, i personally love holidays that celebrate the almighty alcohol. screw easter bunnies and fat jolly men, bring on the little people with promises of gold, topped off with copious amount of green beer!
A huge, admiring “attagirl!” for the photo alone.
Looks super fun!
Canadians don’t distinguish between non drinking times and drinking times….mainly because we’re always drinking.
i love day drinking. looks like the weather was gorgeous!
you look great! double-fisted drinking is the only way to go.