St Paddy's Day aught Eight

I had a kickass Saint Paddy’s Day this year. Being Scotch-Irish, it’s always one of my favorite holidays- who doesn’t love an excuse to throw back glass of chocolate milk (AKA Irish Carbombs) and sing “Too La Loo Ra Loo Ra…” with a bunch of sweaty, drunk-off-their-arse strangers? Oh, that’s right, everyone. Just checking.

Being from outside of Boston, that’s pretty much where I spent every St Paddy’s day… ever. I spent two in Key West in college (I highly recommend it if you can ever make it,) and this year, I wanted to do something different. I remembered during Spring Break one year when I was in Key West, a group of my girlfriends who were there literally packed up in the middle of the week, got in their van, and drove to Savannah, GA, just because they were supposed to have such a kickass St. Paddy’s Day.

(“Savannah?” you’re thinking… “Seriously? As in, the deep south?”)

Apparently, they know how to do it down there, Irish Catholic or not. (Mostly not.) It is a truly amazing celebration. Whether you’re on River St. (alongside the Savannah River) or literally down on the river bank (lined with bars, live music, bbq, and pretty much any kind of fun you could ever want), it was a whole different ballgame compared to Boston. I love my people, (I really do), but we aren’t, um, the most friendly people in the world. Down in Savannah, it was like I’d come home. Beers were shared, smiles were exchanged, dances were had with strangers. “Excuse mes” and “Hi, how are yous” are commonplace. Doors are held for others, and “where y’all from?” is expected if in a five-foot vicinity of another group of people.

Yes, I may be generalizing a bit, and I’m sure I was much more aware of my surroundings, considering my oh-so-different Yankee upbringing. But it was so… nice. My Bostonian bff, Carpet ‘n Drapes, who had joined me for the trip (and, interestingly, had spent 4 years living in Atlanta) looked at me about 3 hours into the celebration and said, “So, we’re doing this every year, yes?” Oh, definitely yes.

Could I live in the deep south? No, I really don’t think I could. North Carolina (for four years) was enough of a taste for me. While I wouldn’t trade those times and friends for anything, it just isn’t me. I am grateful for the traits that I decided to embrace as a product of my southern-exposure, but I just can’t handle the slower pace of life. And, you know, that whole racism thing. But I do love a taste every now and then (and I don’t just mean the biscuits)… I believe I will return to Savannah for many St. Paddy’s Days to come.