Worst. St. Patrick's Day. Ever.

Fair warning: this will be long and bitchy.

The day started good and well. My office was celebrating the V foundation, where you can wear your favorite sports team's jersey to the office. I was extra coordinated and wore the jersey of the Irish National team. This also gives a good excuse to wear jeans and sneakers to the office :-) Anyway, I make general plans to tag along with some of the guys I work with since I've lived in NY for a grand total of a week and don't know anything. Unfortunately, I kinda need to go home because I can't leave my laptop at the office this weekend since Sunday I'm going on a business trip to Florida. So I leave shortly after 5 so I can go home, turn around, and get back to mid/downtown. I get on the 1 right outside my office and take it to the A. I catch the A just as it's arriving, and I apparently neglected to check which way it was going. So, after going one stop in the wrong direction, I switch sides and start going uptown.

The train gets to 145th street, and they make an announcement that someone has been injured on the 168th street platform, and neither the express or the local will be going there. Oh that's just freakin' fantastic. So I get out of the subway, and look at the bus stop that was recommended. I decided that getting at the end of a line of an entire subway train of people trying to get on a bus will be an exercise in futility, and start heading north and west. ( I have realized that knowing I will always need to go north will be one of my saving graces in this city.) Anyway, I hop on a bus and it takes me to 168th, where I walk like 6 blocks (as opposed to the 2 I need to get to the subway) to my apartment. By this time it's like 6:15, and it has take new an hour to get home from work. I drop of my stuff, turn on my computer, and pour myself a couple shots of Jameson, because I figure I'll have some catching up to do.

After 15 or so minutes I get a text message fro my coworker telling me where they're at. I do my best to down my Jameson quickly, and I head out. When I get to the subway, I realize I can't find my metro card. Fucking great. I just dropped $75 on that shit 4 days ago and now is missing. I debate buying a new one, but decide to run back to my apartment and give it a onceover. I come up empty. As I'm about to admit defeat and head out my door, I check in a pant pocket that I hadn't stuck my hands in (because its one that I don't' every use), and discover my metor card there. (On I side note, I have a bad reputation for hiding things form myself in packet I don't' use 95% of the time.) Anyway, I run back to the subway, and get on the express. Unfortunately, the train in from of this is express is experiencing technical issue,s so its running at about the speed of the local. In fact, the local actually caught up to us about halfway down the line. Anyway, after delays, I finally get to where I'm going at "8th and 49th." I look around for th bar but don't' see it. I walk a half block down in every direction from this intersection and come up empty. After a while of aimless wandering, I give up and trying calling people. Unfortunately, no one is answering.

Anyway, I decide to go another block in each direction to figure out what people really mean, and I find the bar. (Ah, so when you say 49th, you mean 48th). I make like 2 rounds up and down stairs (most of which with my $8 Guinness in hand), and I finally spot 1 of the 3 people I was hoping to meet up with. By the time I get there, apparently the other guy I was supposed to meet (and was trying to call) have left. Whatever, I'm here, I'm drinking, and he's talking to girls. I figure I can hang for a while. I do, have a Harp for my second round, and eventually leave when it's done since the girls were leaving and the guy I knew had already left. I go to a locally grocery store and buy myself some twix (because I haven't eaten since lunch), and finally get a call back from the guy who says he's down in the West Village. Thanks dude. I've lived here a week, lets do street names and numbers, because I don't know anything. Anyway, I make use of the facilities in a local hotel, and go down and wait for a train going downtown.

It's about 9:30 at night now, and after a long wait for the train, I need to go to the bathroom again. I figure I'll wait until I get to the bar. I get myself to the street my coworker is supposedly on, and he gives me a corner of to streets. Unfortunately, neither of these has numbers, so they're pretty much meaningless. I ask him east or west, and he guess west. So I walk west. To the end of the street, and do not find the street he mentioned. Thanks, you're a moron. So I turn around and walk back the other way. I walk almost to the east end of the street and aI still haven't seen it, and say fuck it, I'm going to the most recently passes subway station. As I'm about to go down, I see the street he motioned. Awesome. I give him call to ask him the name of the bar, but there is no response. I call the other I guy I met up with earlier, and he doesn't answer his phone either. I wit awhile, but no one calls back, and I say fuck it, I still need to pee, I'm going home. By this point it's like 10:45.

So now I'm cold, sober, I need to pee, it's St. Patrick's day, and I'm calling it a night before 11. Fucking fantastic. SO I take the rain home. Of course now that its night, the train is local, so this is going to take like 45 minutes. ::ugh:: Anyway, I finally get home to pee (I've needed to do this for like 2.5 hours). Let me tell you, it was far and away the highlight of my evening. IT was a piss that was slightly below orgasmic. I couldn't even walk straight afterwards. It was that good.

In conclusion. St. Patrick's day sucked. Worst ever as far as I'm concerned. God damn. 2 years ago I had a keg of Guinness at my house and everyone get plastered an it was great. Now I'm sober and alone on St. Pat's. Tomorrow, I think I will start creating going out rules for myself in NYC.