It's amateur hour in the city tonight. As I type this, men and women are vomiting green beer onto sidewalks from the East Village to Hell's Kitchen. I prefer to hide up here, and think about the memories I have from this day.
The St. Patty's Day Massacre was 25 years ago today. You won't find it in any history books. It's only relevant to myself, and about 11 other people, none of whom know that this blog even exists, and only one of whom that I still talk to. It marks the first time I ever rode in a police car. No, that's not true. I did ride in a Scotland Yard car when I was 13, but that was more of a private tour/ridealong. But 25 years ago when I was 15 it wasn't my choice. It was my first time suspended from school that year, but not my first suspension. That came a year earlier when I was a freshman (but without police intervention).
It was a hell of a sophomore year.
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