Fine Whine

Sunday night late is a special time at Irish Fest for those of us who labor on this silliness all year long. A year's worth of hard work and planning is winding down to its final minutes, the final crowd of the final day begins to drift toward the exits. For those of us on the board of directors it's a time for reflection, for contemplation, for mistywatercoloredmemories. So last year, in that last hour, you know what I was doing when I should have reflecting, contemplating and bittersweet basking? Bagging feckin' bottles, that's what I was doing. Hauling recyclables around. Dismantling and stacking recycling bins for pick up. Why? Because we were woefully understaffed in the recycling committee last year and as the board liaison to that committee I had to miss out on the reflecting and jovial high-fiving all the other directors were doing while I helped save the Earth. Me and Natalie and a great volunteer from Texas named Tom, I think dealing with 75 recycling containers. I bet I missed out on group hugs, sentimental toasts, hearty handshakes, a bittersweet tear rolling down a sunburned cheek...maybe even self congratulatory back slaps! I wuz robbed!

Deprived of my Sunday night glory-basking last year, I'm determined to get me some in 2008. Help me. Please. Volunteer for the recycling committee. Take a shift Sunday night. We need people all weekend long, of course, but Sunday night is crucial. It's not hard work, in spite of my whining. It's empty plastic bottles. It's lifting air. Easy gig. Good karma. It's just that I don't want to do it.

You can save my Irish Fest experience. Sign up for the recycling committee today. I thank you.