I accidentally celebrated St. Patrick's Day already. I was supposed to go out with friends from work tonight....okay, not really. Many people are going, but I always intended to bail. It's scary out there. But I'm doubly not going because I'm still recovering from my previous St. Paddy's Day funtime.
We got last minute tickets to The Pogues, and last minute houseguests in the form of Dave's sister Kate and her husband Pat, who drove down to join us at The Pogues. I was not particularly familiar with their music, and neither was Dave, but Kate and Pat are huge fans, and assured us that a very good time would be had.
And indeed there was. I was a little scared of St. Patrick's Day-type rowdiness and belligerence, and there was maybe a little of that while we were waiting in line, but once we got inside and the band started up, everybody was just joyous and silly. There was much do-si-doing and arhythmic swaying to be had. Also Jameson. There was some of that too.
Before reparing to O'Flaherty's after the show (we had many a bar with an Irish name to choose from in the midtown area, but O'Flaherty's at least had mournful songstresses and comfy chairs) Dave and I may perhaps have spotted, as I intelligently put it, "that guy I like who was in that movie," and "that woman you like," and those people may in fact have been Paul Bettany and Jennifer Connelly and I may have spent the rest of the evening at O'Flaherty's talking about A Knight's Tale and Labrynth, but I can't really say for sure. Actually I can.
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