I had been advised prior to the day by some of my Irish friends that going out on St. Patrick’s was a bad idea, and it would be optimal to stay in and enjoy a proper amount of alcohol away from the crowds. But this being our only time in Cork during St. Patrick’s, the girls and I headed out around 12.30 to the annual Cork parade. It was a much smaller affair that I expected, populated mostly by families and internationals and consisting of community groups and youth organizations. Homemade costumes and floats abounded. It was an enjoyable time as we stood down on Grande Parade and ‘ooohed’ and ‘ahhhed’ at the large dragon float and dance troops.
Girl with a flag at the parade.The area had a good crowd, but it was by no means packed. I could easily see through the onlookers and I dodged more children than I did drunks. Around 2.00, the festivities over, we went back to Leeside to refresh our drinks and plan for dinner. One of the girls was celebrating her 21st birthday so a good group of us went to the Jade Palace, a nice little sit-down Chinese place off of Patrick Street. The meal was good, and dessert was included. We sang Happy Birthday and played with the table’s giant lazy susan and had the whole place to ourselves.
Parade Dragon.After dinner we decided to start getting ready for the evening. It was a good time, for the most part. We started at a place ironically called Sober Lane, where the live music was mildly popular and the place not too crowded. From there we hopped to Preacher’s, a little hole-in-the-wall where the sound was a mixture of 80s punk and modern rock and where we spent the next few hours in good conversation and bad dancing. Full of band posters and people with phenomenal colored hair, Preacher’s is a place I might go back to if ever I found myself in that hard mood.
But finally getting tired of the cramped space we decided to try the Brog. I was sure we would never get in, but no one seemed to believe me when I professed the student bar to be loved by most everyone, expect people from Minnesota. The crowd was just as I expected and, unable to get inside, we hopped down to Crane Lane where I enjoyed my final drink of the evening- a straight Jameson whisky- and walked home with one of the girls around 1.30 am.
A national holiday, St. Patrick’s Day is roughly equivalent to the Fourth of July, and that is the best I can describe it. Full festival atmosphere, and while visitors seem to enjoy it to an extreme, the Irish I know tend to take it in stride. Two of the guys I know stayed in their little town outside of Macroom (about a 30 minuet drive from Cork) for the day and enjoyed what the Guinness Book of World Records calls “The Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade,” while another did homework until, finally giving up at 9.00, he made it into the Brog. But for the most part there was no more obvious drunkenness than an average Corkian night, but there were many more green hats than I have ever seen before.
