This is why you didn’t see me last night

I guess you could say I’m a bit of a partier. I’ve been known to go out quite frequently and, on occasion, I’ve even been known to seriously throw down. I’ve always been a social butterfly and I have a weird love of themed or well-planned events that have become so frequent in the past few years that several of my friends have dubbed me the “cruise director”.

So, it should not be shocking that, pretty much all day yesterday, I fielded questions about my St. Patrick’s Day plans. Where was I going? What are my recommendations for hang outs? Were Irish Car Bombs to be involved? Now what might shock some of you is the fact that my response to all was “Yeah….. I’m not going out tonight”.

You see, although this was the first time I went entirely social and booze free for the drunken holiday, I decided a long time ago that St. Patrick’s Day, much like New Years Eve, is Amateur Hour and let’s face it, I’m a pro. (yes, I am laughing as I type that statement, I’m not that ridiculous)

Everyone in the LA scene knows that the best nights to go out are weeknights since the amateurs come out on the weekend. Weekends are when the suburban kids who only venture outside of their bubbles every couple of months and the parents who just got a babysitter for the first time in a year all suddenly show up to the clubs so the pros avoid these places come Friday. Now if you think that’s a bad scenario, I’m about to blow your mind with my dissection here because St. Patrick’s Day is about a thousand times worse.

On any given night out, there’s generally an unspoken code of revelry without douchebaggery that we all adhere to. We’re all there to have a good time so you are expected to do so without infringing on the good time of others. Feel free to get wasted for all I care, just don’t break shit, or fight with people. Don’t argue with your significant other and go cry in the bathroom. And please please PLEASE don’t commandeer the jukebox with either crappy music that is the antithesis of the crowd you’re amidst (ie: a Britney Spears playlist anywhere outside West Hollywood) or depressing tunes that you should be crying to at home, not blasting through a bar. Unfortunately St. Patrick’s Day tends to fall victim to 3 kinds of people who make it all much worse than this.

First, you have the people who “never drink”. These are the students who study their asses off all year, or the people who just would rather have a dinner party then go out to a bar. They’re social people who have nothing against drinking, they just rarely partake and that’s fine, except when the one occasion they choose to break this mantra is on March 17th. Drinking is a skill that many of us work hard to master, and these people tend to not have any clue where there limit is. They go from sober to completely crunk in 2.5 seconds and then spend the rest of the night alternating puking in dirty bar bathrooms or possibly out in the open on smoking patios (a sight I’ve been unfortunate enough to see too many times) and loudly pondering how they got so drunk because they “never drink”. Guess what, you may have been my favorite person earlier in the night, Never Drinker, but now? Now everyone hates you.

Second, we have the people who are just shitty drunks. These are the douchebags who get wasted all the time, usually on Natty Ice at their Frat houses or at tailgates. They know their limits, they just don’t generally give a crap about them. They’ll get wasted any time anywhere, they’ll pick fights just because they’re bored, and they’ll cause scenes everywhere they go, making things super awkward for their less-drunk friends. You know these guys, we all do. For some reason though, they somehow manage to make it all worse come St. Patrick’s Day. Because you see, “Everyone is Irish on St. Patty’s Day!” And they view this mentality as an excuse to be puking, rallying, and fighting by noon. Jerks.

Third is definitely a holiday-specific anomaly. These are the serious alcoholics. The guys who drink alone in their basements in an easy chair 364 days a year. This is their day. This is what they’ve been waiting for all year long. This is the one day they can ascend from their basements and bond with their fellow alcoholics in pubs all over the city. This is the day they can take off work, start drinking in public starting at 6:30 AM and people will love them for it. They’ll take pictures with slutty college girls who are all decked out in green while having bros buy them shots so they can cheers to “this cool old guy”. This is totally better than Christmas for them, this is like their version of Heaven!

So yes, dear people, this is why you didn’t see me last night, and why I laughed so hard at a friend’s 7:30 text message assuming I was already drunk, for you see, I take time to rest up during Amateur Hour. I roll with the pros.