irishmen

I transformed last night. 8 o'clock found me leaving the Arcade downtown with plans to go to a party in the woods. I didn't have the directions. We met at a house, played some videojuegos, drank a couple of beers, and I was even tested on my French. I think I got an A-. It was time, then, to take to the woods. I followed a friend to the forest. When we got there we didn't know many people, but they were easy to party with. Drinks were drunk, moves were danced, people were wearing frog hats. Eventually I was one of those people. Slowly the party forged ahead, and some of my company began to leave. It was getting sort of late. By midnight I knew even fewer people. I found a friend and we went outside to smoke a cigarette. For reasons I cannot describe, we both connected on a very deep, very Irish, level. Neither of us have an Irish background. We both agreed, though, that somewhere deep inside us is a repressed Irishmen desperately seeking freedom from within. There was something about the woods that night, something that helped uncage the beast. We connected, my new Irish countryman, and spoke with Irish accents and used Irish lexicons. It was like I was talking for the first time. I found myself saying things like "the likes of you!" "BOLLUCKS!", "FUUUUUCKIN 'ELL!" and "I think tha'll DO!" at the top of my lungs. We flipped our cigarette butts out, and chummily traipsed back into the party. We weren't 2 steps in when we fired off some more Irish slang, accents thicker and louder than ever. We were greeted whole heartedly by what seemed to be more blossoming Irish folk. Growls of thick green accents filled the whole house. Everyone was becoming Irish, right before our very eyes. It didn't take long to find a bottle of vodka, open it, and finish it. It was like fuel for our new Irish identities. I'm struggling to know if I found myself last night, or if I lost myself. I found something - that's for sure -  like a stranger in a very familiar land. We pressed on. An hour went by and I had completely forgotten I was an American. I wasn't an American. I was an Irishman - through and through. One by one we sniped away any trace of an American accent. Hell, English and Scottish accents were quickly smothered as well. I hated the English...

 

It was 2:00 in the morning, and I was feeling strange having a conversation with someone in my "normal" voice, like I was holding back Seamus O'Flannigan - my newborn Irish identity. I remembered who I was, and where I'd come from, and how some way - some how - Walter and I were able to see the best in ourselves, and in each other. As I write this, while a pile of Indian food digests in my stomach, I am reminded of my transformation. Swift, forceful and punctuated - just like an Irishman. I've never been to Ireland. But last night, I felt like I'd never left.