Recently, my family was at a party and some of the guests left without saying good bye. My Things snorted and said, “Well, that was an Irish good bye.” I had never heard the phrase. While watching the TV series Schitt’s Creek yesterday, one of the characters mentioned the “French exit”. It turns out they are the same thing. Americans implicate the Irish and the Canadians and Brits finger the French.
Per Urban Dictionary, “the irish [sic] exit refers to the departure from any event without telling any friends, associates or acquaintances that one is leaving. It is almost always the result of being very inebriated/intoxicated.” Here is a good article on this topic as well as the very millenial form of separation called “ghosting”.
In the case of the above noted party, intoxication was not the reason.
In other news, my DNA per Ancestry.com revealed that I am about 29% Irish, 27% British, 33% Scandinavian, and the rest is Western European, including 6% Iberian Peninsula. There was no German, which was odd because I was always told I was also German. This later Iberian dollop did not show up in my father’s DNA, so we have to surmise it came from The Radish
(sadly, she did not spit in her tube before passing away). My Aunt SuSu
had no Iberian Peninsula in her DNA. Raftbuddy
sent me this interesting article
explaining why siblings get such varied DNA. So, sisters, order your kits and let’s see who is the most Irish and who’s the most Iberian! The truth will out!
I trust that none of my readers pulled an Irish exit yesterday! My father, Big Mike, made my mother’s corned beef recipe, key lime pie, and soda bread. You cannot believe what a fantastic, nourishing feast that was. The potatoes, sadly, never made it to the party. The Truth be told, I forgot to bring them. The cabbage, however, was not missed.
Question for you: Have you ever pulled an Irish goodbye and if so, what were the circumstances? TELL THE TRUTH.