St. Patrick's Celebration

As any good Irish woman would, I went out on St. Pats. Yup full on, belly hanging two feet in front of me, waddled into a bar called "The Swiss" to celebrate in style. Some close friends of ours flew out from Kansas just for the weekend. I couldn't disappoint them and renig on the stories of crazy St. Pat's of the past. When we arrived at The Swiss it was just beginning to get hopping. We ordered some yummy appetizers and dinner and then started the rounds. Of course mine were of ice water. Each round brought tears to my eyes. Not because I couldn't imbibe in the awesomeness that is Guinness, but because the guys got more and more funny. I could barely breath by the third round. I made my way down to the long line at the WC. I looked around at the other women. It wasn't rude cause they were sure staring at me. I started to feel much better about being pregnant when I noticed that half of them had belly's nearly as large as mine but no baby inside. :) The lady behind me shyly asked the dreaded question... "So when are you do?" I responded with 3 weeks. "I thought it must be soon" she said. "I was hoping for a St. Patrick's day baby but since she doesn't want to come out I figured I'd have one more night of fun." Woohoo it was my turn finally (the WC remember). The live band began playing at 9ish. This is when the site seeing got really fun. This bar (smoke free hooray) was the most diverse place on the planet. There were people of every generation from the 50's to the late 80's. The clothing was also from every generation. I wish I could have snuck some picks to share. We are talking class acts here. Duff decided to make up a game with our friend Rob. It was called "What does that middle aged woman dressed in teenaged clothing do for a day job?" We picked some good ones: secretary, dental hygienist, dump truck dispatcher who fled to America after being kicked off the German women's rugby team. Then there were the men who were trying desperately to hang on to their "cool" and hit on these lovely ladies. Silk teal shirts, Abe Lincoln beards, pleated front jeans, white socks with black shoes. The fun was never ending. It was like a bad episode of What Not to Wear. I loved it. Being old and married (not to mention with child) we retired at an astonishingly late 11pm. I was proud. I know I may have been the butt of some jokes for others that night but I went out on St. Pats in true Irish form with my Irish husband and some great friends.