After nearly five years in Chicago, I finally celebrated the most holy of holidays in the Second City—St. Patrick’s Day. In fact, I am pretty sure there some are folks in the city still celebrating…or recovering.
Now you are probably thinking, “Well my town/city/place of employment/school celebrates St. Patrick’s Day, too. That’s nothing special.” Well friends, you would be wrong. You’re probably used to wearing green and hoping not to be pinched. Maybe you do a car bomb and call it a day.
Not in Chicago. We celebrate St. Patrick Kane Day for nine straight days…over two weekends, on the day itself and at every Blackhawks game in between. True Irishmen in their fisherman sweaters and newsboy caps and real gingers come from miles around to party with their “Irish” brothers and sisters across the city.
St. Patrick’s Day kicks off the Saturday before the sacred day with the annual dyeing of the Chicago River. The local plumber’s union pours a mysterious orange concoction into the river and churns it with motor boats. The river magically turns the brightest shade of green, much to the delight of the thousands of people who gather to watch. Continue reading