Image via WikipediaNew Years Eve is nothing but an overpriced gouge that can benefit the house, but is generally a wasteland for servers and bartenders, the kind of evening where publicans should consider themselves fortunate if the guest is cognizant enough to actually sign their charge or navigate the complexities of a post midnight debit transaction, yet alone leave a tip.
Mothers Day is another good one. An annual plague that is visited upon dining establishments , as opposed to bars. "Hi, we're an unhappy family that never go out, and the stakes are really high. No, we don't have a reservation, but we do have three strollers and a very limited budget."
But the mac daddy of all the barf encrusted dates on the calender is St. Patricks Day. It brings out the absurdity of drunken Irish temerity in people from all around the world in North America.
The truth is that in Ireland, St. Paddy's day is no big deal.
So as the clock strikes six tomorrow, I will take a moment of silence in memory of all my comrades heading out onto that Guiness laden, puke infused, 5% tipping battlefield. Its just one shift, and as you engage the battle, remember that, as sure as the earth is turning, last call will come.
As for me, the miracle of scheduling has granted the day off. They don't call it the GREGorian calender for nothing.
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