Last night’s plan was to meet at An Poitin Stil and have dinner while enjoying the festivities. So I arrived shortly after 7, only to find that parking was VIP Only. Keep in mind this is an Irish pub, not a club, and it’s outside Baltimore city proper. Ah, but it was St. Patrick’s day…
So the guards informed me that I could park at the light rail station. I did so, and then picked the wrong route to take back to the pub. After walking two miles or so in my least comfortable shoes, I finally got there, to find avivahg emerging from a solid press of people. It was 7:45 at this point, she had been there for over an hour, hadn’t gotten near a table, and wanted to go home. I told her I had just walked two miles to get there, and she asked me why I hadn’t taken the bus. Seems one small detail the guys at the gate had left out was that there was a bus ferrying people to and from the parking lot. I leave my reaction at this point to your imagination.
I had mixed feelings at this point – I wanted to drink, and eat, and celebrate, dammit! On the other hand, the idea of being squashed between hundreds of beer-chugging college kids was a bit off-putting. In the end, I never made it in the door, and we went home and enjoyed beer and snacks and TV. Yay.
I don’t envy avivahg‘s position. When I married her I warned her that I lead a quiet, sedate existence; that I was not a party animal by any stretch, and preferred a night at home with a good friend and a movie to spending a night on the town. While this is still true of me, the sad secret was, when I met her I’d never even had the opportunity to enjoy a wild night on the town. I was the typical insecure dweeb, poo-pooing things I was too scared to try. Since getting married I’ve come to find that I enjoy going out to clubs and meeting new people (although I’m still painfully shy). I’m not quite as insecure as I used to be – it’s not so much that I’ve become a smooth socialite, as that I’ve ceased to care how much of a dork people think I am. Meanwhile, avivahg is dragged back into a life she thought she was leaving behind.
I prefer like a night spent in cozy quarters with a few close friends, good drink, and good food to just about anything else. But my horizons are expanduing, and I’m becoming acutely aware of what I missed out on while I was busy being boring and responsible during my highschool/college years. Not that I want to find out what it’s like to puke up a half-gallon of cheep bear on some guy’s nacho-covered carpet and wake up the next morning with no idea where I left my pants. But looking back, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a single proper party. I’ve gone to a lot of church pot-lucks, had some intimate birthdays with family and close friends, hung out at a lot of local concerts. Just once, I’d like to be at an honest-to-god party with lots of people, drink enough to lose my antisocial shell, play stupid games, talk to strangers about indy movies, make a fool of myself dancing, and when I take a walk outside around 4AM to clear my head, realize that I’ve been having, *gasp*, a good time with people for a period of hours.
I know. Pathetic, isn’t it?