Stereotypes aside, it's well known and almost expected that the Irish folk throw down and drink up in celebration of St. Patrick's Day. Just past 8 on an overcast and cool Saturday morning, all races and ages aligned while waiting in line outside the Phyrst, 111 1/2 E. Beaver Ave.
"The Phyrst is the only real place to celebrate St. Patty's Day," said Valerie Spangler (senior-finance and international business) between card games with Kurt Kinscherf (senior-marketing and international business). Spangler's green eyes and red hair matched the vogue of the 20 others waiting in line with her. "I did make a call to my mom at 7 to let her know I was waiting in line already. She told me not to drink too much."
A few feet down the line, Joe Imszennik (senior-turf grass science) sunk into a lawn chair, relaxing from Friday night in preparation of St. Patrick's Day, even though it was still 16 hours away. Besides being Irish, he had another reason to paint shamrocks on his face and drink green beer.
"Being a turf grass major, I surround myself with green all the time," Inszennik said jokingly. "It takes a little something extra to wait in line this early."
Inside the doors and down the stairs, bartenders did as much as they could to brace themselves for the weekend-long insanity. Although this was his first St. Patty's Day as Phyrst manager, Chad Smith prepared well.
"We're going to sell Irish car bombs like crazy," Smith said. "I'll have a bunch made before the doors open."
When the doors opened on Saturday and Sunday, the rush into the bar resembled the running of the bulls — only they were letting the bulls inside. Green and white streamers draped above the green plastic derby hats of patrons. Below, pints of green beer were raised for Ernie Oelbermann's onstage toast.
"Here's to you. Here's to me. Hope we never disagree," Olbermann said. After pausing, he continued. "If we do, the hell with you. Here's to me."
Offstage, he strolled around the crowd with the same enthusiasm and contagious smile as he had in 1965, when he founded the Phyrst. Camera crews begged for his attention, but he spent most of the time mingling with those singing along with the Shamrock Girls, who took the stage minutes after the doors opened on Sunday.
After a few songs, singer Jen "Dixon" Hesketh took some time to engage the crowd.
"How many people here are hungover?" she asked under the glow of green, white and rusty red lighting. Although pregnant, Hesketh still exuberantly sang for both the Shamrock Girls and her other band, The Phyrst Phamly, on both dates.
"She's done that with all her kids so far," Phyrst co-owner Tom Wareham said.
The capacity of 225 people was stretched all day and night for both days and nights. Despite the large crowd size and little elbowroom, people's smiles were big and toothy, like those pictures along the stairwell entrance.
Seeping between the cracks of the young and old, John "Yanni" Stabile quietly and politely asked partygoers their permission to freeze and frame their time. This was his 15th year as the Phyrst photographer and has captured countless numbers of good times between good friends. Credit him for finding the photogenic full smiles and full moons lining the stairwell's walls.
"One year, I saw a woman get up on stage and striptease," Stabile said, noting that everything except her underwear was seductively removed.
Also floating through the crowd was 25-year regular Dan Walters. Known exclusively as Uncle Jed at the Phyrst, Walter spent some time on Saturday night behind the bar drinking green beer while stroking his green beard.
All the while, live music played every hour of the weekend except one. Even kilt-clad lads tinged the crisp Sunday air with a pair of bagpipes.
Since St. Patrick's Day plopped on a Sunday this year, the Phyrst seemed to make it into a two-day holiday. Perhaps only in America can another country's holiday become a weekend party, but no one at the Phyrst was complaining.
