A day for my shoes

I had a special addition to my St. Patrick's Day wardrobe this year. And unlike green clothing that you can wear any other day of the year and still fit in with a crowd, that's just not possible with green shoes. At least not with this pair. After debating back and forth with Abbey in the Saucony outlet store a few months ago, I bought the bright (and I mean bright) green pair of shoes, which even have the image of a shamrock on the backs. Abbey was convinced that with a bit of wearing in, they'd be ready for everyday use. So I tried it. Their first time out of the house was to a local bar. As expected, they received lots of points and comments. Flattering for them, I'm sure, but annoying for me as I had to stop myself from responding to random drunks: "No, it's not your imagination, my shoes are REALLY green." However, it wasn't until they made an appearance in the grocery store -- where an older man actually stopped pushing his cart, backed up, and told me that I was wearing "St. Patrick's Day shoes" -- that I decided to save them for the special holiday. Good choice, because while green shirts, buttons, boas, and even hair was in abundance, green shoes were rare. My pair got the attention it deserved, especially on the fresh snow-covered NYC streets. And I didn't have to explain my fashion choice to anyone.
Big picture now: St. Patrick's Day was great all-around, not just for my shoes. I took the train to Abbey and Adam's apartment in Jersey on Friday night, and after some pre-drinking there on Saturday morning, we headed into the city. The previous day's ice storm deterred us from going to the parade, but we found lots of entertainment at an Irish bar. (For the $20 cover, I wouldn't expect anything less). Abbey and I encountered quite a few crazy characters, including a group of Scottish (yes, Scottish, not Irish) men in kilts who showed us multiple times the traditional way to wear the skirts. Not really a pretty sight, but funny all the same. After almost 12 hours of beer, we somehow navigated ourselves to Burritoville before going home (actually, Abbey gets the credit for leading our drunk pack), and then back to the train station. My shoes are now safely back in my closest, waiting for next year, or just a day when I'm feeling particularly brave.