Flash Fiction: The Drinking Hole

The murky water of the Chicago River turns into a perfect Irish green. At first glance it looks like an algae outbreak or a boomeritis ego-spill. But no, it's a handiwork of city crews inpired by pollutions, leprechauns, and an Irish saint named Patrick.

I sometimes wish I could partake with the festive enthusiasm but I'm neither Irish nor American. I'm just an impartial observer of the wonderful parades, riverdances, flood of alcohols, and the irritating laughter of Conan O'Brien. I understand that this day is special, even holy for some, but for me I will always associate St. Patrick's Day with strip bars and taxi drivers.

You see, the first time I ever saw a St. Patrick's Day parade my head was still pounding from lack of sleep because I were in a strip bar the night before. It was my first time to witness totally nude and gorgeous dancers only inches away from my gross pulsating body. But whenever I try to recall the scene I only get garbled images of headless dancers, shaved bodies, faint smell of Victoria's Secret lotions, and pain in the groin. The weird thing is, it's easier for me to recall the taxi ride home. It's hard to forget a ride when the taxi driver kept bitchin' about the inequality of wealth distribution, corruption in politics, terrorism, emptiness in pop culture, and the overall insane state of the nation.

"I see no solution to all this bullshit," the taxi driver with gray Einstein-like hair continued to mumble. "People nowadays are just born lazy, crazy, and whiny. I think it's better off to blow this stupid planet with fucking nuclear and electromagnetic pulse weapons and start civilization from scratch." His methods maybe sick but his concerns and frustrations seemed sincere. I wanted to get home safely that night so I just nodded and faked a smile.

I woke up early the next morning and walked with anticipation along Dearborn Ave. I watched the marching bands, decorated floats, dancing cheerleaders, children with leprechaun masks, family get-togethers, avid drinkers, and men with beads. I had no idea what they were celebrating then, but it was fun to watch people having a good time -- inebriated or otherwise. Then I walked along the Chicago River and noticed the bright green hue of the water. The sight was awesome. But for a brief moment, I wondered if it was a sign of Armageddon.