A day or so after Valentine's Day (February 14th, in case you've forgotten, you heartless barbarian), my dear mom starts decorating the house, car, and dog with shamrocks, Irish slogans, and green of any sort for her favorite holiday: St. Patrick's Day (March 17th, in case you're an idiot). Even though my mom was born in the States and none of her children have ever stepped foot in Ireland (although I did work in a few Irish pubs) my mom loves Ireland and just about anything Irish.
I grew up liking St. Paddy's because it meant lots of green candy and corned beef, which my mom actually cooks incredibly well. Now I like this glorious holiday because of the whiskey specials and the candy/shamrock stickers my mom mails me to give to all my students and friends (no, she doesn't mail me whiskey specials, I can find those on my own).
Since I'm now supposed to be a mature professor, I've tried to wean myself off of super-binge drinking. But March just happened to be one of those months. I quit drinking for the month of February just to retune my system and let my liver shrink back to size of an elephant's. I started my professor semester in February so I needed to come in clean. Or clean-ish.
I wasn't planning to drink on March 1st, but I took the hardest fall of my skateboarding career and all my skate friends decided to get me drunk to kill the pain. Since then, I've retired from skating. Sorry bros.
The next week my friend married his Korean bride. This also doubled as their going-away party, so we did some ultra-drinking. I woke up the next morning with no money, a full bottle of soju in one pocket, and an empty one in the other.
Unfortunately, at the same time, my dear grandfather also passed away. I didn't drink for that, but I definitely had some serious emotions that I kept bottled up. This will come back in the story, and to haunt me.
The week after that was St. Paddy's Day. But this one fell on a Saturday so I needed to go out on Friday. Friday is usually an insane night in Korea. Granted, the drinking in Korea is always top notch, but on Friday all of the foreigner teachers (like me) go out and get plastered. Dealing with children, toddlers, junior high kids, high schoolers, university students, Korean businessmen, or whoever the hell else wants to learn English for five days in a row can be stressful. So most teachers get shitbombed on Friday. So, I did too.
You can read about that idiotic story here: My Five-Month Late St. Paddy's Day Eve Story
And you can read about my actual idiotic St. Paddy's Day here: My Five-Month Late St. Paddy's Day Story
Thanks a lot and top o' the morning to ya! Or whatever the hell time it is over there!