Cinco de Mayo, Feathered Masks, and Green Beer

Two weeks from today is St. Patrick's Day, the day where everyone's a little Irish and a lot drunk. It's one of those holidays that we're not even sure what we're celebrating, but we certainly know how to celebrate it: by drinking massive amounts of beer and liquor. Despite the fact that I'm one quarter Irish, I seem to remember only caring about St. Patrick's Day approaching around the age of, oh say, 21.  At that age you will look for any excuse to go out and drink.  That's why the first week in May you wind up with a bunch of white girls saying to each other, "So what do you want to do for Cinco de Mayo?"  Try asking any one of them the historical background of the holiday.  And no, Jose Cuervo wasn't involved. 

Mardi Gras is another one.  For the uninformed, the original purpose of Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday, was to have one last gorgefest before the deprivation period known as Lent.  I assume that back when the tradition started, people actually made sacrifices during Lent.  Nowadays, we'll take full advantage of the principles behind Mardi Gras, regardless of our religious observances.  Eat a lot of food?  Have a bunch of drinks? Wear brightly colored beads (what'd you have to do to get those?)?  Use mildly amusing noisemakers while watching strange men wearing masks and feathers march in a parade?  Those are some stipulations I could get on board with.  And on a Tuesday, no less.  It's the day before Ash Wednesday, when Catholics aren't supposed to eat meat, as well as every Friday during the stretch.  But what big sacrifice are we really making?  Every year during Lent Dave and I go to all-you-can-eat sushi on Fridays, which is even more gluttonous than Mardi Gras.  Let me get three spicy tuna rolls, an eel avocado, and a Philadelphia, and don't skimp on the cream cheese.  Yes, that's making a real sacrifice.  Can't you tell I'm depriving myself?  I'd normally eat six rolls instead of five.

But by far, the biggest let's-booze-for-the-hell-of-it holiday has got to be New Year's Eve.  Don't get me wrong; I love New Year's Eve.  But what are we really celebrating here?  That we managed to survive yet another calendar year without killing the people most near and dear to us?  We just spent thousands of dollars on Christmas; do we really need to eat dinner for a hundred bucks a head?  I firmly believe that three groups of people got together years ago, decided that New Year's Eve should be celebrated, and marketed their idea to everybody else.  Those three groups are restaurant and bar owners, cab companies, and teachers.  Restaurant and bar owners lobbied it for obvious reasons.  I could see them discussing it now: "You know, I don't think we sufficiently robbed our customers blind by jacking up our prices on Valentine's Day.  Let's make up a new holiday where we can make prix-fixe menus!"  Cab companies heard of the plan and soon wanted in on the action, since they knew that people couldn't drive home after consuming all that alcohol (not included in the prix-fixe).  And teachers loved the idea because it meant that they could get drunk and forget about the fact that their Christmas vacation was about to come to an end.  See, I knew there was a reason I loved the holiday so much.

I have to admit that I have fallen into the trap of all these faux-lidays.  I'm kind of excited that St. Patrick's Day falls on a Thursday this year, since it's the one weeknight on which I'll actually go out.  Hey, if drinking green beer will help commemorate the anniversary of St. Patrick driving the snakes out of Ireland, or whatever it is we're celebrating, then who am I to argue?  If we do go out, we'll probably head to a local Irish pub for some corned beef and cabbage. 

Okay, I'm lying.  I hate corned beef and cabbage.  I'm totally in it for the green beer.