I walked into a coffee shop this morning and thought I’d slipped into a cartoon.
Everyone was wearing green.
Not just a little green. I mean full commitment. Green hats, green scarves, green socks peeking out like they were proud of it. Even the barista had a green bow tie and a grin that said, “It’s going to be one of those days.”
I ordered a simple coffee. They handed me a caffeinated masterpiece topped with green whipped cream. Green. Whipped. Cream. I stared at it like it might start talking. It didn’t—but it did taste like sugar and bad decisions.
Next stop: the bakery.
Green bagels.
Rows of them. Like someone had dyed the whole wheat field overnight. People were grabbing them like gold coins. A guy in a tall hat laughed too loud and dropped cream cheese on his shoes. Nobody cared. It was barely mid-morning and the world was already tilted.
Step outside and it got louder.
People in green hats everywhere. Packs of them. Singing, shouting, hugging strangers like long-lost cousins. And the drinks—oh, the drinks—bright green, glowing like science experiments. Folks were already drunk, and it’s not even noon yet. Not even close.
I watched a guy toast the air with a plastic cup of neon green liquid like he had just won a war. His friend tried to high-five a mailbox and missed.
That’s when I took a different path.
I found a quiet corner, leaned back, and took a slow puff (grown-up choice, no instructions here). The noise softened. The sharp edges of the day turned round and easy. And here’s the thing nobody at the bar wants to admit: it felt better for me than beer. No spinning room, no heavy head—just a calm drift through the madness.
Then I found it.
Corned beef.
A big plate of it, steaming, piled high with potatoes and carrots like it had been waiting for me all day. I took a bite.
And everything clicked.
The spices popped. The salt hit just right. The carrots had a sweetness I swear I’d never noticed before. It wasn’t just food anymore—it was a full experience. Like the plate was telling a story and I finally had time to listen.
Meanwhile, the green crowd kept rolling past, louder, wobblier, chasing the next drink before dinner.
Me? I stayed with the corned beef.
Because in the middle of all that green chaos—green hats, green drinks, green whipped cream—this was the real gold at the end of the rainbow.
Keep it weird,
