St Patty's Day in Nebraska?

Nebraska is a great place. There's a work ethic, a respect for learning, and a sense of family that when combined build a capable, resilient populace.

Southeast Nebraska, where I live, was settled primarily by Germans and Czechs. They're a hard working, hard drinking people. I'm mostly of Irish descent, with a bit of German and Dutch thrown in to make things confusing. I mostly fit in here, but I suppose I identify most with my Irish heritage. The Germans had Hitler, and the Dutch had William of Orange, while the Irish have James Joyce, Patrick O'Brien, and lots of novels by Leon Uris celebrating their heritage.

This is all preamble to describing my first St. Patrick's Day back in Nebraska after a two year hiatus. Two years ago we were in New Orleans with too much money in our pockets, and too much time in the field in our psyches. Last year we were in Iraq.

Now, I'm moving into my new house this coming weekend, so I decided not to travel anywhere and instead enjoyed a quiet St Patty's Day in Lincoln, Nebraska.

After work I boxed up a couple of book cases, and washed two loads of towels (they fold quickly), then headed up the road to my local sports bar. It's not a bad place, but outside of Nebraska football Saturdays it has nothing particular to recommend it besides Guinness on tap.

The atmosphere just wasn't that festive. A rueben (no corned beef and cabbage available), some french fries, and Guinness. Of course I'm surrounded by yuppy wannabes drinking green beer and listening to Metallica on the jukebox. No Dropkick Murphys, no drunken singing, no beads, not much fun at all.

Next year I'm traveling. Chicago, Boston, or New Orleans. Just not here. Not until Lincoln gets a real Irish pub, anyway.