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Riding out the storm

Nora Kenney | Monday, March 23, 2009

I had been looking forward to Saturday ever since December when I found out Gaelic Storm was coming to campus. I’m kind of a groupie.

I know the names of every one of their songs, even the instrumental ones. I have a picture of myself with the lead singer, Patrick Murphy, in my dorm room.

I’ve seen them play in my hometown, Dublin, Ohio, many times. Despite the fact that my parents and parents’ friends are always in the audience, and that, in fact, the majority of the audience is usually my parents’ ages, their concerts get pretty rowdy. That’s why I assumed that a Gaelic Storm concert on a college campus would be even crazier than one directed towards baby boomers.

Maybe my expectations were a little too high, but how could I not have expected a lot from a concert of my favorite Irish band during the week of St. Patrick’s Day on the campus of the Fighting Irish?

Just before the concert I put on a green shirt and some Gaelic Storm songs, and my friends came to my room to get ready with me. But while I was trying to practice my jig to “Pina Colada in a Pint Glass,” my friends were slightly killing the buzz, so to speak.

“Wait, are you seriously complaining about Obama giving the graduation speech?” I asked.

And it went downhill from there – two of us hate Obama and the other one loves him.

In the end we all agreed to disagree peacefully, and our Irish eyes were smiling once again. But the fact that I’ve been with my friends non-stop since January, including over spring break, meant that tension was still in the air…

At the concert, they refused to stand up and clap and dance. What’s a Gaelic Storm concert if you’re sitting? So, we yelled and sang along from our seats.

Apparently we were singing a little too loudly because the old man behind us yelled at us to shut up. This would never happen in Dublin, Ohio. The only Gaelic Storm song I wanted to sing at this point was “I Miss My Home”.

My friends say I’m not very good at handling anger. I pout silently. I always think I’m doing them a favor by keeping my mouth shut, but they can’t stand what they call my subconscious “pouty face.”

But here’s what I took heart in: some of my friends hate Obama. Some friends love him. Some friends won’t stand up in a concert but still manage to get yelled at. But at the end of the day, when you’re making the pouty face, they’re your friends, so they’ll still love you and forgive you. And that’s all you can really ask for.