Tomorrow people will flock to the bars (more than usual anyways) in honor of Saint Patrick's death, which took place some time between 420 and 460. Forty years is quite a gap, but when you think about how long ago this was, it isn't bad. At what point did close records on people's deaths take place? Certainly not at that time. Oh well, it was long long ago in a country across the ocean.
Since moving down here to Wichita, I have given up on going out for St. Patrick's day. The bars are too busy, decent Irish bars are too far in between. The one nice thing about the Irish bars here are that they are small and quaint, like they should be. The problem is this: when there are only two or three in a city of over four hundred thousand, they get packed. Quick. And the service just goes down hill from there. I just like sitting at home on this day and drink some whiskey or a stout (this year it'll be whiskey for that is what I have). I may even get a little crazy and listen to some Irish music.
Éire go Brách!
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