I hadn't planned to do anything for St. Patrick's Day (since I'm neither Irish nor Catholic, and am generally suspicious of consumerist holidays and pre-planned drunkenness, which strikes me as kind of sad although I recognize that this is my own problem), but then Chris convinced me to go with her to the Alibi Room for a birthday party for one of her friends. And even though it wasn't technically a St. Patrick's Day Event, I felt compelled to only drink Guinness. For the record, canned Guinness is better when poured into a pint glass than when it is consumed directly from the can. Perhaps the second is just better than the first. For me, last night, these exposures were confounded.
The party fun, though the music could've been better and I really didn't know anyone; so I mostly followed Chris around and was introduced to people for a few minutes of small talk. Apparently the ceiling of the downstairs portion of the Alibi Room is red. Many of the people at the party had bowling names, but not bowling shirts. It was enough trouble to remember real names, so I ignored the bowling names even if they were more interesting.
The party broke up not too late and ideas about riding mechanical bulls were abandoned; so the whole evening did not turn out to be disastrous or hangover-inducing at all.