Ring The Alarm

St. Patrick’s Day in Hoboken. At 10:00 this morning there were crowds congregating on street corners. Not waiting for the parade, but waiting for the bars to open, or heading off to parties. At 10:00AM, you can hear various parties going on in apartments, walking through Hoboken this morning. The bagel shop had a line out to the street and most bagels were sold out. I was lucky to get a green poppy seed bagel. And the supermarket was filled with newly of age drinkers, buying all the beer they could carry. I had to go to the library to pick up a book that I had on hold and Diane, the head librarian likened Hoboken today as being one big frat party. And she hit it on the head.

It was packed everywhere I went. Lines out the door into the streets. And all before noon. I got what I could and headed home, for breakfast, followed by laundry. I had a few errands to run so I timed it that after the laundry I could do the errands which was paying the cable bill and getting my new Stevia. It was time for the parade and so I found a good spot on Washington Street to wait. In between two bars in the sun.

I spoke with Rand aka El Jefe and mentioned that he and Lisa aka Lady Gigglepuss were planning on watching the parade. I told them were I was and soon enough they joined me. Lot’s of pipe and drum and bagpipers and kilts. In 35 degree weather which occasionally felt a lot colder. We were situated next to a few guys who I dubbed the Horny Boys. Just because every vehicle that went by they pleaded with the driver to honk the horn or sound the siren or ring the alarm. And the Horny Boys would get so jubilant when the request was granted, no matter how squeaky the sound. It was very funny and everyone in the area had a good laugh every time, including the marchers.

This year the person in the Guinness suit, someone who looks like a big pint of Guinness was on the back of a pick up truck, more than likely due to the fact that Mr. Pint of Guinness has gotten jumped by various drunker parade watchers cum participants. It’s a short parade with representatives from as far as Somerset and Passaic. Some Hibernians marched but I don’t think they had any connection to the ancient twits that run the New York parade. Even though online Hoboken is Gay City, on the street it’s mainly invisible and I don’t think there’s ever been an attempt to march in the Hoboken St. Patrick’s Parade and I doubt there would be any problem, but who the hell wants to march in freezing cold weather? Been there, done that. Next!

It’s now about 6:00 and I need to run to the store. I’m thinking of going down Washington Street just to see what that looks like three hours later. How strong are these kid’s livers? Or their stomachs? We shall see.

I just got back from walking down Washington Street at 6:00PM. Craziness. Now there are still crowds of young drinkers queuing up outside of various bars, and occasional singles and pairs walking all over the place, unable to walk in a straight line. Drunken young men yelling into cellphones, ‘That’s not what I said! That’s not what I meant!’

Drunken Firefighters off duty in dress blues passively fending off drunken young women. Most stores have signs on their doors saying that the rest rooms are out of order, and they probably are. People new to the country, new to Hoboken look on bemusedly and confused by all the festivities of young women teetering on too high heels and young men in green t shirts with thermal tops underneath. Now is the time to stay inside. Plus Bill just got here and I think it’s the first time in a long time that he can be himself. Which means he will drive me crazy in an hour. That was a joke. Two hours at most.

Here are some pics

Before the parade