It was an Irish-like day in the Canton neighborhood of Baltimore
– cold and gray with the threat of rain. We arrived around 10:30 after a
bountiful full Irish breakfast party hosted by Eileen and Andrew. Joining them and
Corinne were Donna and me, Kate, Ryan and Eric, Pammy and Chris, and Mike and
Rose who drove in from New Jersey.
The Swanekamps had rented a van and we piled in. Andrew
drove to the appointed destination, from whence we walked to our customary
first stop, Cardinal, where the bloody Marys flowed. Cardinal changes ownership
seemingly with every season, but it remains a welcoming, handsome corner bar in
the Baltimore tradition – a long, narrow bar set in a long, narrow rowhouse, with
exposed timber rafters and exposed brick walls adorned with pictures of old-time
local athletes and a few random rock stars. We played Semi Charmed Live on the jukebox in
honor Jack, who couldn’t join us this year. Barb was absent as well, and we
missed them both.
From Cardinal we strolled to Lee’s Pint & Shell and
found plenty of room and a fine bar upstairs. We stayed long enough for one
drink and then were joined by Tom and Kathleen and Michelle and Jimmy, so we stayed
for another.
A tradition of ours is the limerick contest. Each person
writes a poem upon RSVPing to the Swanekamps and the winner gets to wear the prized
Limerick Sash to Cardinal. At each stop is a new contest.
Donna proudly wore the sash for her initial entry, and at Cardinal passed
it on to Pammy, whose throwdown at Lee’s beat out stiff competition. From there
we went to HomeSlyce for lunch and, obviously, more beer, and where Andrew got sashed
up for his poetic submission.
We closed out our tab and hoofed it to Quarterhouse, the
former NcDevin’s, the final stop on our crawl. By that time we were all
limericked out.
From there we headed back to the Swanekamps, where Kate had
gone ahead to prepare for us a feast of delicious, alcohol-absorbing food.
It’s a magical day, even for those of us
less-than-full-blooded-Irish, with much laughing, and socializing, and
friendship, and as every St. Patrick’s Day evening, I start to look forward to
the next one.
Slainte!
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