I am so far from that tribe, that green-clad tribe of inebriates. They use the excuse of St. Patrick's Day to wear green and consume major amounts of alcohol. They totally impair themselves, get sloppy, fall-down drunk, end up on the linoleum retching and crying. We were in a sea of them yesterday, waves and waves or drunken revelers. It was sort of like an anthropological expedition. "Oh look at those youngsters, are they really of drinking age? Look at how they do a shot of some horrid brew, and then check their phones, and chatter away like crazed monkeys."
I do remember long ago, I thought that seeking oblivion was somehow cool, an adventure, a required rite of passage. And maybe it was, or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it really was foolish, and a waste of time, and I was damn lucky to emerge with most of my faculties intact. Now that seems like a lifetime ago. I am not that person. Today it's all about clarity, seeing clearly. And there is a certain "high" in the cold, bright light of clarity.
And there is something sad and disturbing seeing so many fellow humans seriously incapacitate themselves, thinking that it's required or "fun." I am not of that tribe!