MY BIRTHDAY PARTY AT THE HOOLEY HOUSE – MENTOR, OHIO

MARCH 13th, 2010

So my birthday is tomorrow (March 18th), and I had been looking forward all year to having my party at the Hooley House (Brigid’s Cross’s new home in Mentor). Last year, immediately following the grand opening of the Hooley House, Brigid’s Cross played a St. Patrick’s Day concert there. The following evening (my birfday) they did what they called the Survivor Party (an extra excuse to drag out the festivities) named so because it would only be attended by St. Patty’s Day “survivors” – those that are not too hungover from the night before to go out again.
Last year I attended the Survivor Party – front row and center – with Kendra. It was the only thing I actually did for my birthday last year, and really the only thing I’d done in two years (I will not mention the depressing day that I turned twenty-one, when my stepfather had refused to talk to me for two weeks, let alone acknowledge my birthday, and I was stuck at home with him all evening). I was looking forward to doing it the Survivor Party again, but when I talked to Paul on St. Practice Day last month, he told me that they wouldn’t be having one, as he and Peggy have to leave for Florida early Thursday morning. They did, however, mention during that show that they would be throwing an anniversary party for the Hooley House the Saturday before, and that was my signal to scoot and shuffle my birthday plans to accommodate.
So at 7:36 pm on Saturday night (some friends were more punctual than others) we gathered on the first floor of Andrew’s Hall. I felt extra special being the one for whom the crowd was gathered in our dorm lobby, as it has become custom for us to gather in a lobby before going out to dinner together. Brittanie and Tiffanie made an awesome picture for my door whereon they drew a hand doing the Vulcan salute, then added the all-important phrase “Live Long and Prosper” in a lovely styled calligraphy. Upon close inspection, you can tell that it was drawn by hand, but at first glance it appears to have been printed out. Stellar-ness.
Kendra, Jennie, Nikki, Claire, Courtney, Becky, Nicole, Brittanie and Tiffanie and I set out in the rain at roughly five minutes to 8 to make the short trip to Mentor.
I became extremely nervous and uncomfortable when we got to the pub an hour and a half early to find that there were no tables available. I had contemplated calling ahead, but felt stunted by the phone call I had made last year to reserve a table for myself and my dad, only to discover that tables could not be reserved on concert evenings. However, the hostess informed us that we could have called ahead, leading me to conjecture that either I had spoken with an uninformed employee before, or the policy had changed. Also, it led me to feel stupid and incompetent.
Anywho, the hostess told us that it would be an hour wait (was more like half an hour, bless her), which is what made me feel all twitchy inside, plus we would have to sit in two separate booths until a table became available. I had a real and serious fear that my great evening out was going to flop. Jennie, however, lent an important hand by scouting a good location for us to wait, at the back of the bar where it was breezy and somewhat quiet-ish and we were more or less out of the flow of traffic. Here we were free to chat and take photos and, in Nicole’s case, glue our eyes to whatever sportscast happened to be playing over the bar. She must have been gleefully over stimulated by the excess of TV screens. Way to go, Hooley House! You know how to treat a lady!
After our wait, we were fetched by the hostess and relocated in two adjacent booths near the door, with a clear and close if somewhat sidelong view of the stage. I was actually rather pleased with the outcome of the seating arrangement – we were given two extra chairs to accommodate the extra people (we had ten), and I was able to sit at the end of one table and flit back and forth to socialize as I pleased. I returned the pager to the hostess and thanked her, letting her know that we were content with the booths and would not require a table.
I wrote several requests down on a napkin for myself, Claire and Kendra (and Nicole, who wanted to hear “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” but was for some reason embarrassed to have her name written on the napkin). I wanted to hear “Twelve” – but then, when do I NOT want to hear it? – as a birthday request, and “Lisdon Varne”; Claire voted for “Drunken Sailor”, her favorite Irish pub song; and Kendra opted for “The Dance” to satisfy her country side. I made sure to mention that “Devil” needed to get in there before 10pm, because that was the time Nicole, Becky, Courtney and Claire had to skip out. Claire had a horse show the next day – exciting in its own right, as it was a Western show at our equestrian center, plus she placed 6th in her class. Unfortunately, they played her request about 15 minutes after she left.
The remainder of this blog will be done in bulleted format, as I have noticed that paragraph format will make it look choppy. Also, since blog-writing is a form of pleasure writing for me, I think I shouldn’t feel the need to adhere to any formal format.

I noticed at this point how extensive the House’s birthday decorations were. There were balloons attached to the booths and a “Happy Birthday” strung over the stage. The concentration of decorations around our tables made it feel like it was decorated just for me, which tickled me anew.

I was thinking about trying to cobble together a set list from memory, but I really don’t feel like it. They started out with “The Night Pat Murphy Died”, which we of course know courtesy of Sean McCann. They did both of what I’ll call “The Irish Clapping Songs” (“Wild Rover” and “Whiskey in the Jar”), and “Fields of Athenry/Freebird”, thereby completing the Holy Trinity of Irish folk songs (those that you hear by default several times a day at any given Irish festival). Also on hand were show staples like “Katie Daley”, “Johnny Be Fair”, “Follow the Whale”, “Doin’ an Irish Polka”, “Orange Blossom Special”, “The Unicorn Song”, and that lovely medley that features Richie and Paul’s sexy Neil Diamond impressions. They spontaneously turned “The Dance” into a dollar dance for the bride-to-be that was celebrating her bachelorette party at the table in front of the stage.

My friends got a kick out of The Mailman Song. When you introduce people to a band and see them react positively, it’s almost like hearing it for the first time again.

My customary scream when Paul announced that they would be doing a Seven Nations tune was met with customary good humor. Peggy and Paul even poked at Richie to let me have a drink on the house, but to no avail (I ended up getting a Long Island Iced Tea, which was pretty good. Could have been a smidge sweeter, but then, I don’t really know the proper mechanics of alcoholic beverages). “Twelve” battled it out with Lisa Loeb’s “Stay” for quite a while before winning the title of My Favorite Song Ever. I never get tired of hearing it.

Later, when they did “Lisdon Varne” for me, Richie tickled me by saying, “I really don’t think I can sing this song until I hear that scream again…” I dutifully complied.

The Rooster’s performance was “Oldest Swinger in Town”, in honor of the bride-to-be. At this point I had to pee for like, the third time, and so unfortunately I missed the flashing he paid the audience mid-song. That’s right. All of my friends were subjected to Dick Goonan’s nipples while I was safely in the bathroom, waiting in line with a full bladder. Mwahahahaha…
Speaking of weddings: while he did not tell it at this show, Jennie wishes me to mention Paul’s “Irish wedding” joke, because she really liked it: What’s the difference between an Irish wedding and an Irish funeral? … one less drunk!!

The show ended around midnight, after which I got the Bakers to pose for a picture with me, by approaching Paul and letting him know that I had never taken a picture with them before *shock*. I even got a picture with The Rooster near the beginning of the show, and about an hour later he wandered over to our table to say hi. When he saw me, his eyes got wide, and he exclaimed, “Hey! I’ve seen you before! I got to take a picture with you earlier! Remember me?” or something to that effect. It was quite amusing. Richie skipped offstage and was running around the pub like a mad person (or a manager) after the show, so I didn’t grab him for a pic. And he’s probably lucky. But he won’t be so lucky on St. Patrick’s Day. Hee hee hee…