The South Side Irish Day parade is here again!

It’s been a tradition for myself and the crew for the last five (?) years now. I’ve lost count. Mostly due to inebriation. Not once have I actually seen the parade. Instead, we head on down to Cork & Kerry’s on Western Ave in Chicago around 7am to wait for the bar to open at 11am. I think the parade starts around noonish. Who knows. One year I think I caught a glimpse of a float. Or could have just as easily have been a really tall dude dressed in green.

Needless to say, we’re not completely sane.

I’m coming prepared with a mini keg:

EDIT 9 March 2008 at 5:57 AM:

From the Chicago Suntimes, “Ten Tips to Survive the South Side Irish Parade”:

1. Take public transportation or park near the route the night before, and have someone drop you off on parade day.
2. Wear old clothes and lousy but comfortable shoes.
3. If you don’t have time for a real breakfast, drink a Bloody Mary.
4. The parade kicks off at noon. Drinkers line up outside taverns on Western before the doors open to get a good spot at the bar.
5. Expect to drink beer out of a plastic bucket and to pay North Side prices — and then some.
6. Being friendly has its advantages. If you can’t make out with a stranger at the parade, you can’t make out with a stranger anywhere.
7. If the guy next to you looks like he might be a cop, he probably is.
8. Don’t even think about trying to run a tab or use a credit card to pay for drinks.
9. What not to do when nature calls? Don’t pee on any trees. Don’t pee in the alleys. Don’t pee in the alley, again. Don’t walk into someone’s house party uninvited and use their toilet.
10. If you come to the parade on a bus from a North Side bar, don’t miss the last bus home.

UPDATE 9 March 2008 at 9:03 PM:

Yes, I had a blast and yes, I’m hurting for it.

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The Chicago South Side Irish Parade (commonly known simply as “southside”) is five days away! It’s a relatively new tradition for me as I’ve only attended the last 4 years, maybe? Nothing is ever certain with this event since the memories are slowly killed at the end of the day by tubs of alcohol. But the beauty of it’s simplicity is what attracts people every year I think; wear green and drink beer. period.

The days itineray is as follows:

Put on 12 layers of clothes.
Pack a backpack with beer.
Arrive at bar around 8am.
Try our damndest to be first in line.
Wait in line while drinking the cold away.
Bar opens at 11am.
Pay insanely huge cover charge.
Pay for insanely expensive buckets of beer.
Drink.
Drink more.
Wait in line for bathroom while drinking.
Realize that the parade is over and you don’t remember seeing any of it.
Stumble into the street.
Try not to get run over by cops on horses.
Eat a hotdog.
Eat another hotdog.
Find the designated driver.
Wake up in bed the next day with beads around your neck, green fingernails, and hotdog breath.

Also, why do I feel like I have to rationalize the reason I go to this thing every year? Meaning… I’m not Irish. But I still jig to the Irish songs and drink the Irish beer (well, sorta) and wear the green like any good irishwoman would do.

I am 25% Welsh. Does that count?

Sidenote: The day after the 2006 soutside I was flying back to Iraq after my 2 weeks of ‘leave’. You can only imagine that party, eh?? It was a hum-dinger to say the least. How can I possibly top it this year?

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Seasonal depression is in effect. Each day I wake up in this weather and think that I can’t survive another day in the tundra. But of course the day goes by, I bundle up, trek back and forth to school, and hibernate once my obligations are done. I need a cure. Something has to change

Yesterday was the blood letting.

Not so long ago (perhaps only a century ago) medicine believed that draining blood through either cuts, leeches, or sores would help relieve fevers and other ailments. We laugh at how assinine that seems to us now but at the time it was quite a serious matter.

T & I on a whim decided to purge ourselves of this seasonal depression crap. It was literally, “Wanna go to the casino?” Me: “What the hell.” After a brief arguement of how much we were gonna bring (I really only wanted to bring $20, I swear!) we were off. I’m fairly certain that the moment I stepped foot on the casino floor my money dissintagrated into little bits of pocket fluff. But there was something invigerating about it none the less. I was a big fat loser but the draining some how leaked bits of my seasonal crappiness out of me.

Also, on the way back to town I ate a hamburger. I ate a friggin’ hamburger!! (pssst… I’m a vegetarian, ya’ll!) Wendy’s quarter pounder MEAL. Fries… soda. The works. All of this on the way to the bar where I consumed one too many beers (and definitely didn’t need that birthday shot either, T!)

Needless to say, I’m feeling a bit cleansed which I suppose was the intention. I’m sure you can argue that there really wasn’t anything positive that came out of the night, but then again neither did blood letting. Back to reality I go….

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