St. Patrick’s Day Shenanigans

At WMU, March 17^th has become a day where the Irish and the not-so-Irish Broncos look forward to spending the entire day drinking as much a humanly possibly. During this day, ambitious students wake at earlier hours, throw on their green Tee’s with catchy slogans containing promises of becoming drunken barbarians, and tap their kegs of green beer. The past three years at this university I have partaken in these festivities. I, like many others, was somehow brainwashed with the notion that at WMU St. Patrick Day was meant to be spent fulfilling the following:

BINGE DRINKING

BEER PONG

BAR HOPPING

BELLIGERENCE

I had always experienced this ridiculous celebration as an insider. The past three years my memory of St. Pat’s Day at WMU has been just as blurry as many others. I remember feeling the unnecessary urge to keep up with the drunken sea of green that surrounded the areas of Western’s Campus, West Michigan Avenue, and the student ghetto. I remember the green beer that I continued to choke down, despite how sick and bloated it made me feel. I remember when two years ago, it was like 26 degrees. The freezing winds and temperatures of South West Michigan were not enough to stop my fellow Bronco’s and myself from staggering from party to party and still proudly sporting our green T-shirts. After all, the WMU philosophy is the more you drink the less cold you feel. My roommate that year bought a 30 dollar green hoodie just so she could make her long day of drinking more comfortable. That point is that around here students go to all lengths to make sure they can reach a level of incoherence on St. Patrick’s Day. With all of the commotion that surrounded me on this green holiday, I couldn’t help but to be a part of it.

This March 17, in my fourth year experiencing the fascinatingly ridiculous student antics at WMU, I decided to forgo the craziness associated with the day. I didn’t actually do this intentionally. Maybe one could say I have grown up or I am just partied out. Whatever the case I honestly had no desire to spend this day, which happens to be a Tuesday, DRUNK. Nothing about the memories of this day appealed to me this year. Therefore, I did not drink, party, or skip class.

Interestingly to me, it was this year, the year that I experienced St. Pat’s Day with complete sobriety and clarity, which was the most memorable and eye opening. On Tuesday morning, I was awakened by the screeching sound of an individual already out celebrating. Turning to look at my clock the letters blurred something like 9:18. I had left my window open the previous night because the forecast called for sunny and a high of 68 degrees; it was going to be the spring day Kalamazoo has been waiting for, not to mention a perfect day for celebratory drinking. However, since I had decided not to have beer for breakfast this March 17, I felt I should get out and enjoy this beautiful spring day. Feeling ambitious I got ready to jog up to our recreational center with intention of using this day for healthful and beneficial things, to distract myself from the bad habits of my past years. .

Ironically my old Sacony’s that I wear to run are a greenish color, displaying a hint of St. Pat’s Day spirit that I secretly still feel. I am out the door at around 10:09 to set off on my short run up to the rec center. Making my way up West Michigan Avenue I pass a few dog-walkers, other ambitious joggers, and students hurrying toward campus to class. Blaring Incubus in my headphones I try to focus on my cardiovascular efforts and steadily make it to class. But as front doors open all around me and students begin crawling out of bed to crack a beer in the sunlight, the scene that quickly consumes my vision becomes too inviting to ignore.

Passing by my old house I glance at it to the right out of habit. In that two second glance I notice the six new residents, all wearing identical green T-shirts, who are beginning their morning playing beer pong in the front parking lot. A large clover made of green flashing lights hung in the window of my old living room. I could hear the cheering of some girl sinking a shot. I turned up my ipod volume to its max to drown her out. About one block further on the right side of West Michigan where I was running is a big red fraternity house. Here I could notice the members of Sigma Phi Whatever surround three large kegs which sat on their front porch. I crossed over to the other side of the street as soon as I could to avoid possibly getting hit by the football that is being tossed back and forth by a couple of frat dudes, or even to avoid one of the red plastic party cups that were already accumulated on the lawn.

Jogging down the left side of W. Michigan Ave I just think about getting to the rec without being bombarded by the early drinkers. As I near campus a feeling of ease comes over me because I figure that campus will be about 98 percent free of drunkards at this hour. However, before I break into the sobriety of WMU’s campus, there was a rambunctious green crowd of at least 40 individuals close ahead. This crowd of students was occupying the outside patio of a popular campus pub called The Grotto. In the distance I could make out the green mob. They were caged in by a fence where there where banner’s hung advertising the bars great St. Patrick’s Day Beer specials: Dollar Domestic Pints. I could see that most of the individuals were incredibly excited with a green beer in hand. Everybody was standing and many were leaning over the short black metal fence that separated them and me. They were like caged intoxicated animals who were hollering at those who weren’t sharing in their drunken extravaganza.

As I got close enough to recognize faces, I noticed a girl who I had in a couple of Early Childhood Education classes. She was running around the beer patio clanging cups and sharing “Woo’s” with everyone around her. I remembered her from the child psychology course I had two years ago and could picture her and I working with the third graders at Washington Elementary. It seemed weird to see her in that setting.

Once I reached the inconveniently placed patio I felt myself quickly picking up speed. The Whooping and yelling is intimidating, especially since I am a panting, red, sweaty mess. As I passed, the smell of wheat and yeast tingled my nose and I veered to the right to dodge the flailing arms that reached out toward me begging for a high five. Various screeches of “HEY’ and “yeah girl run!” sounded over my headphones. My sober reaction is to smile, nod and awkwardly wave, while continuing to run as gracefully as possible.

I arrived at the rec that morning successfully at around 10:28. There were fewer students than usual there, maybe the rest were at one of the numerous bars that opened early to serve the eager Bronco’s.This is just a glimpse of what one could possibly see during a day walking around the student populated areas in Kalamazoo. While on Campus, you might notice the latter: A complete lack of student involvement. Either students are off elsewhere celebrating the “holiday” or they are sitting class anticipating the fun-filled day that awaits them when they finally get out of class.

Later during this day I made my way to class, walking as usual, and contently sober. The afternoon had reached its peak and the sidewalks and streets were full of people. Most were wearing green, and most becoming exceedingly drunk. The point during this St. Pats day walk to class that is the most visually memorable was when I passed a certain crowd while crossing Howard Street. There were about 10-12 of students, men and women. I assume they were freshman because they were walking out of campus with no book bags of any sort. What was most visually memorable though were their matching green T-shirts that they wore as they excitedly gallivanted across the street. Each shirt was Kelly green with a large white clover front and center. Above the clover the words “Get Drunk” read, and below the clover displayed the words “Get Lucky”. As these 10 or so Bronco’s strode off of my campus that I have tried so hard to love displaying the slogan “Get Drunk, Get Lucky” I suddenly felt completely satisfied with my decision to forgo the annual St. Patrick’s Day WMU shenanigans.

I made it right in time for class to start, and at least half of the students in my class were missing. My professor didn’t seem at all surprised though. Has Western’s history for binge drinking on St. Patrick’s Day been so consistent that our professors don’t even expect us to show up? Either way, I am very happy that I got to experience St. Patrick’s day WMU style alcohol free. It was eye-opening, humorous, and entertaining.

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