ADVICE: "TAKE TIME TO CELEBRATE"

CAB #: 2223

AN OPEN LETTER TO ST. PATRICK

Dearest St. Patrick,

I have decided to send you a note after several days of partaking in debauchery (strictly in your honor) to thank you for sufficiently raising the spirits of Chicagoans. It has been a painstakingly brutal winter that saw our city transform into a giant tundra of sub-zero temperatures and icy snow. The conditions were so artic-like, I swear I saw a polar bear and some penguins hanging out near Lake Michigan. And even THEY shivered. You see, Patty, (can I call you Patty?), the winter, coupled with the awesome state of the economy, all the Blago ballyhoo and our new title as the Third Most Miserable City in America, has made for an opposite-of-phenomenal '09 thus far. We needed something to celebrate. Desperately.

This past weekend, you blessed our city with sun and warmth and a taste of spring. On the Northside and the Southside and every which way, people were out in droves to pay homage to you. The pubs were packed full with Irish Eyes and Smiles and Princesses. And the girls shook their shamrocks, while the boys took Irish whiskey shots. "Kiss me, I'm Irish" - Really? I thought you were Puerto Rican - it doesn't matter, we're all Irish today. And for a second, we forgot about everything else. Because we needed something to celebrate.

And as I looked around, I saw that glasses were filled to the brim - but they poured more. Green beer made for green teeth and green tongues - but they poured more. A girl named Holly missed her flight to San Diego, and a boy mourning his friend's death had tears in his eyes - but they poured more. And we all ended the night with full bellies and tired eyes and foggy memories - but we poured more. Because we all needed something to celebrate.

Thank you, St. Patrick, for waking up our sleepy city and giving us something to celebrate.

And thank you, Cabbie #2223, for reminding me.

D