The St. Patrick's Day Antithesis

Lola parked in the cemetery parking lot, which happened to be the only free parking near campus. As she stepped out of her car, Lola silently swore. Frat Row lay between her and campus, ten blocks away, and St. Patrick's Day celebrations would certainly be in full swing even at ten in the morning. Lucky Lola, not one block away presented a perfect opportunity for her practice her ignorance of the day.

Beer Pong... In the front yard... The entire frat was outside with a keg propped up on the steps. The good weather was going to make this St. Patty's Day worse than usual. Cheers of "Fail!" and "OH!!!" with the occasional "Chug, Chug, Chug, Chug....AAAYYYY!!!!!" through the close knit streets.

"Amateurs," Lola whispered.

Fortunately, she made it down the ten blocks with little encounters from the youth of the college. Well... immaturity of the college, because most of these frat boys were indeed her age. Once on campus, things calmed down a little and Lola was able to enjoy the beautiful sunshine of the first day over sixty degrees for the year. But instead of enjoying it outdoors, like the multitude of students mulling around, she went straight indoors to the cluttered hallways. Green hung from the ceilings; shamrocks and little leprechauns twisting in the air conditioned breeze.

Her first class was nearly empty, even though it was a masters course. "Amateurs," she whispered as she finished the easiest test of the semester.

During the break between her two courses, she decided to take in some sun. Though going out into public, especially on campus, was demoralizing on normal days, Lola hoped there would be solace on a holiday where most kids were too drunk by noon to function. So she sat with her iPod divulging contemporary Gaelic music while reading a book about the consequences of Christianity after Medieval times.

Out of the corner of her eye, a blond stick starts walking towards Lola. "Don't be walking towards me," she thinks to herself. "Keep walking."

"Hi!" she said gaily.

"Oh god," she thought, pulling down her ear buds to feign some interest in this eighteen year old cheerleader. Lola can feel her own face putting on that teacher look she's known for: eyes properly concerned with a sense of detachment and superiority, back straight, hands resting in her lap casually but ready to move again, and ankles crossed. Allowed, Lola says, "Hi," with extreme indifference.

"Have you accepted the Lord Jesus as your savior?" The smile on the girls face is politely cheerful and her green shirt blares "I speak fluent Blarney."

Lola doesn't hesitate. "You know, I'm still trying to accept the paint job in the bathroom. I can only handle one thing at a time." Her composure never faltered.

The girl's face tightens, trying to keep her smile but obviously lost for a response. "Umm... Ok," she bumbled as she attempted reinstating her confidence. No more was said as the blond freshman walked away.

Lola's second class went by much quicker. The overwhelming sense of accomplishment fueled the sands to filter more like a swift gale. On her way back to her car, Lola sees an old lady about to cross the street. The poor woman is standing here, hunched so drastically over her cane she couldn't get a good view of the street. Lola rushed forward to help her cross the busy intersection.

"Hi. Can I help you?" she asks gently.

The elderly looks at Lola with confusion and examines her from head to toe before responding. "Would you be a dear?" Her voice is weak and husky. Lola can't shake the impression the old lady should be on an air can as well. However, gabbing onto the thin, weak arm, Lola helps the old lady cross the street. "Thank you so much. Happy St. Patrick's Day," she says as she turns to start inching down the sidewalk.

Lola stood there to ensure the old lady was alright before heading back up Frat Row, something she'd been dreading since her final class was let out. Once the lady made it past the first block, a whole five minutes later, Lola decided it was time to move on. She pulled out her cell phone and texted the only Catholic she could think of: Twiggy. She texted, "Hey Twiggy, I just helped an old lady cross the road! What does that count for?"

Moments later, as Lola walked passed the first frat house, her cell phone vibrated. About seven boys were strewn across the lawn, barely conscious enough to register someone glaring in disgust. "Amateurs," she declared, loud enough for them to hear, as she pulled out her phone.

Twiggy had responded quickly: "Good for you! That counts for forgiveness of either 1 mortal sin or 5 venial sins! Happy St. Patty's Day!!!"

"Thanks Love!"

Lola kept walking, trying to ignore the stream of drunken hollers of lost minds asking "Why... aren't you ...wearin' any green?"

Finally, the slew of boys falling forward attempting to hold a conversation with a passerby, Lola couldn't take it anymore. One of the boys was in her way, trying to figure out why she wasn't celebrating this neophyte's holiday. "Where'sh your green? -Hic- You shhhould be wearing shome green!"

Lola sprang on his slurs, "If I wanted an institution to dictate what I should wear I would have joined the military or gone back to my mother's house. I would have a much better consequence by choosing either of those than wearing green today just because 'everyone else is'."

The frat boy's eyes glazed over as two of his buddies yelled "BUUUUURRRRRNNNNN!!!!!"

Lola smiled and walked away, pleased with her ability to stump a drunken imbecile even if the sport was simple. Arriving back at the cemetery brought much needed relief to Lola as she settled into her car, Willow, and pulled away from the drunken city. Her next stop was the running path overlooking the foothills with Fenway, Frenchie's oversized chocolate lab. "At least with Fenway, no one will interrupt my day."