I had the great honor of celebrating the 242nd Marine Corps Birthday at Cookies Tavern on November 10, 2017 in Philadelphia, PA.
And holy shit, was that fun.
I am not a former Marine, but I am friends with a few, and one of them has invited me the last few years. I always had something work or family related going on that prevented me from going. This year, I decided to make the time – I mean, how often do you get to drink all day with a few thousand United States Marines? So, a few days prior to the event, I texted my friend Eric and we made plans. We headed down in his massive Jeep that morning with a couple of his Marine buddies. I had a sling bag with a couple of bottles of water, a pullover, and some other critical items visible in the photo here:
It was a bit cool out (high of around 37 degrees, with a breeze), and the event was outdoors (except when we were getting shots at the bar at Cookies), but being dressed properly and having a constant influx of antifreeze coursing through your system helped tremendously.
While the day was fun, there were also more than a few moving moments. As the National Anthem was about to be sung, the PA system seemed to have technical issues, so the singer just started sans amplification. Every single person attending (who had already pulled off their hats, locked it up, and placed their hands over their hearts) sang along. I’m sure the singer had a great voice, but listening to the voices of thousands of Marines joined and raised together, and being able to sing along with them somehow fit the atmosphere even better. Goosebumps. A short time later, all hats off, hands over hearts, the crowd locked it up again and stood in stone silence as Taps was played. That song touches you in a special way. This time, I didn’t just get goosebumps. I’ll just leave it at that.
Being around a body of people with such a fierce bond and fundamental understanding and appreciation of the blessings we as Americans enjoy was amazing. Knowing that many of them fought and bled for those blessings, and some of their fellow Marines and friends fought, bled, and died for them was humbling. All of these moments were incredible. There were other quiet and somber moments throughout the day, but at its heart, this was a celebration. And believe me when I tell you that Marines know how to celebrate.
Did I mention alcohol? 30 dollars got you a bracelet that meant you could have all the food and beer you could eat and drink. And there were a couple of bands that endured the cold as well. The beer was domestic, and since I’ve become a beer snob, I brought my own. I wasn’t alone. There were bottles of beer, bottles and flasks of whiskey, jugs of apple pie moonshine, and just about anything and everything else you could imagine. It was like being on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. The food was pretty good picnic-type fare: hot dogs, meatballs, rolls, baked beans, potato salad, coleslaw, macaroni salad, etc. With the amount of beer being consumed, it was important to maintain a balance with some chow. And some of it was warm, which is nice on a cold day when you’re standing outside.
As is Fireball, it turns out. While my beer supply wasn’t running low, it became clear that we needed to raise a few shots to continue celebrating properly. So, we decided to do so and keep our warming buzzes alive with a few shots of Fireball at Cookies. Shuffling through a very thick bar crowd, we stood for a few minutes until the bartender could get to us. After a few rounds toasting the Marine Corps and a few friends, we shuffled our way back out to the street to enjoy the company, the cold, the food, and the music again. Outside, despite the cold, a couple of crazy Marines ended up buying silkies, shucking their long pants, and walking around in them. It must have been the Fireball.
Throughput the day, I would occasionally stop and look around at the assortment of men and women; some young, some older, people of every ethnicity joined by common history and pride. Moving through the crowd, one would catch snippets of conversation, often accompanied by laughter and hearty hugs. It was like family. Actually, that’s not quite right: it was family.
At one point, there was even a few flyovers by Philadelphia’s Finest:
And for the record, the arrival of the Leathernecks Nation MC sounded like thunder and was a sight to behold, believe me.
All in all, a day I won’t ever forget. Thanks again to Eric for the invite. It was an amazing day. When I’m older, I may get it mixed up with other USMC Birthdays, because if I’m able to attend others, you can be damn sure I will. Happy Birthday, USMC!
Oh, and when the National Anthem was being sung? No one was kneeling. No one.
Go figure.
Angry Viking Actual, Out.
