Survival of the Fittest

I knew this day would be epic, but wowza.

I was awoken around 8am to the sound of bagpipes. I didn't know why, how or who. After about 5 seconds of laying in my bed in confusion I knew it was real. We jumped up and ran to the window like kids looking for santa claus on Christmas Eve, and there he was... Kevin from Brooklyn. He made my day. Everyone was out on their respective balconies either a)drinking beer b)dancing or c)trying to convince themselves this was actually happening while still in their pjs (me and bri).

"My mom brought them from home when she visited last month"... if I was bringing home bagpipes I would have to throw away half of my wardrobe to check my bags. After we thanked Kevin for waking us up the most memorable way of our entire lives, we costumed up and american friends who looked like they puked green all over each other started arriving for the grand paddy's day french toast and apple cobbler feast. Both why we were taking this meal to celebrate the french and why meg decided to make peach cobbler for breakfast is a mystery, but hey, I didn't hate it (and obviously neither did alex- see below).

Once we made sure that we looked just ridiculous enough we set out on our journey to the parade. I met up with an old friend on the way just to say hello.

And like all the Irish say, the parade is lame. Apparently it's better in NYC and Chicago, but the people were priceless. And please don't ask about my Irish Indian headdress... I am very aware that it makes no sense at all. I am just embracing the randomness that is the day of paddy's.

The parade started an hour late, while we were on our way to meet our program director to go to Croke Park for the hurling and gaelic football finals. Good news though: amid the hectic crowds and racing against time, we did manage to slip into Ray's Pizza to grab a heavenly hawaiian slice. We were running along in our stupid outfits that screamed american tourists and realized we had to CROSS THE STREET of the parade. Impossible it seemed and timely it was. The group ended up waiting an hour for us to arrive but at least they were graced with our green orange and white presence. So basically we missed the parade, almost missed our tickets, then on the way to Croke Park an Irish man sees Ben... with my camera in hand he was amid capturing the beauty of a delicate swan in a small river (probably also screaming something random and blowing his paddy's day whistle that I was about to grab from his mouth and destroy any way that I possibly could)... and tries to push him in the river. NOT COOL, but surely funny. Got to the games, ben fell asleep in his chair while the rest of us watched irish men with huge legs beat each other up without any sort of mercy for a couple hours. It was fun, and plus I got an ice cream sandwich there. yum.

Quick power nap... time to go out. Every place is packed. We end up at a fine establishment called the hairy lemon soaking in the last few hours of paddy's. At this point in the day the crowd was outstanding: filled with highly intoxicated british women, people struggling for their own consciousness, men using the ladies room and one crazy hairy lemon.

Twas a marathon, not a sprint.