12 Pubs of Christmas
One of the lesser known Irish traditions is the “12 pubs of Christmas”. In an almost ironic exaggeration of the typical Irish persona, the lads and ladies have found yet another excuse to come together and drink for the sake of drinking. No Christmas sweaters or songs, no eggnog, no reindeer antlers, elf ears, or Santa hats. Other than the name, there’s nothing about the “12 pubs of Christmas” that has anything to do with Christmas. It’s the same basic concept as a bar crawl. On paper it’s basically a 2 step process that really couldn’t be any simpler. 1) you plan a route of 12 pubs spanning across downtown Dublin, and 2) you have one beer at each pub. Those are the only two rules, but somewhere around the fifth pub, arithmetic turns into calculus, and multiplication or subtraction somehow creep into the equation.
By the sixth pub a quarter of the group have vanished, and by the eighth you’re basically with an entirely new group of people. I’m no stranger to the Irish exit, which they actually the Belgian dip over here, but the casualties during the 12 pubs feels more accidental than deliberate. All of the pubs are packed and the overflow into the streets shifts the bouncers role from a hulking door man, to an overgrown crossing guard.
Our Irish tour guide for this pub crawl was Andrew. A native of South Dublin, and one of the few Irish members of our class. His route was strong, 12 pubs, 1 road, no further than a mile from start to finish. The night started across the canal at Searsons. Then right next door to the waterloo bar, followed by the Wellington just up the road. There were no casualties at this point - safe, simple, and sober. Next, it was across the canal on a brisk six minute walk to Doheny and Nesbit’s, an Irish staple and one of the best pubs in Dublin for food, drink, sport, and song. Fourth on the list was McGrattans. The path to McGrattans was a slight back track down a small alley just off the main road. After McGrattans was Toners. Toners was the first notion of a missing persons report. I don’t know if there was some confusion after the slight back-tracking into the alley, but we went into the alley with 15 and left with 10. After Toners, the pace quickened significantly, and people began to disappear mid conversation. We hit O’Donoghues, Reilly’s, and Foley’s in what felt like 5 minutes. Half way through my beer at Foley's I could only see 3 people from the original group, and we couldn't determine if we were lost or if we were all that was left. I decided it was time for me to tap out, and started the long walk home. From what I heard the next day, Foley's was the last stop for many.
My walk home wasn’t without excitement though. The long walk from Foleys pub to my apartment is about 2 miles which takes between 30 and 40 minutes. Half way into my walk, just over the Liffey, the Christmas market is winding down. The pop-up bars and food trucks have their windows shut, and the crowd has dispersed almost completely. The market is set up along the canal, so it’s a long corridor with water on one side and a building on the other. As I enter the corridor, I see a man running full speed, being chased by a two cops. He has a 20 yard lead on the cops and as he nears I can see the woman's red purse he had just lifted. The victim is hysterically shouting in the most unhelpful way, and the cops are in no shape to run him down. Pretty soon I realize that I’m the only thing between the burglar and his smooth get away.
After 8 beers, and a long history of petty theft, I wasn’t actually sure whose side I was on. I mean there’s no courage in robbing an old woman, but growing up I always rooted for the rebel. I'm not comparing this guy to Indiana Jones, but my initial reaction was much more Butch Cassidy than Marv and Harry (Home Alone). As he sprinted closer, I didn’t really move. I just watched and calmly made direct eye contact to the point where he decided I was not a threat and would not adjust his course to avoid me. When he came within five feet of me I wound up and kicked the shit out of him. It was some Jackie Chan, Shang-Hi-Noon kung fu. The cops came up shortly after, cuffed the perpetrator, and thanked me for my help. It’s no key to the city, but ill take it. After that, I walked home, went to bed, and flew back to the US for Christmas. (see contextual map below - seen of the crime above)
Song of the week: only living boy in new york, Simon & Garfunkel
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5biEjyXNa2o
Comments
Post a Comment