Sunday Memories: The Luck Of The Irish And A Couple Of Others

Essa Bagel's tribute to St. Patty's

I was 17 and moving up at my first office job. Every department, except sales, was filled with bright young women wearing the latest in 70's fashion - clunky shoes and severe panty lines present in high-waist flared trousers.

It was my first day in the customer service department, and I was set to the task of checking the computer read-outs of the new, highly advanced computers. The first on the block!

Lunch loomed and all of a sudden the many young women in customer services whipped out lipsticks and purses. "You're coming, right?" one asked me. "Where?" I answered.

A billion faces stared at me in disbelief.

"The bar. It's St. Patty's."

"Oh."

"I thought you were Irish."

"Oh. I thought you were Jewish."

And with that cleared up, I found myself for the first time in the middle of a packed Irish bar, drinking a double rye and learning old songs on the spot.