On any given night the odds of you seeing me at a club are roughly 364:1. However, it was St. Patrick’s Day and this year I was all in for Patrick McMullan’s infamous annual celebration hosted at Pachca. If I’m going to subject myself to this debaucherous holiday, I may as well do it right, and skip the cover charge and overly packed bar and instead fill it with good friends, complimentary beer and vodka, in a crowd filled with weirdos and freaks (present company included) –it’s a sure way to not have to worry about making a fool of yourself on St. Patrick’s Day. Plus it’s always a pleasure to run into Steve Sands and hear about his latest uproar and he does always take the best pictures of me.

Patrick McMullan was quite the host, greeting guests, camera in hand. I was welcomed with a kiss on the cheek, and for that brief moment despite being in a packed club, the party felt quite intimate. Then sometime after the open bar ended my body needed out of the club district before it turned into a pumpkin so I ended up at 7A, gorging on everything fried I could get my hands on. Keep it classy Eurdolian, it is after all St. Patrick’s Day.