When a friend invites you to South Boston on St. Paddy’s Day, the only answer is yes. I’ve done this a few times over the years, some times being great fun and some times ending on less than stellar notes. There was a lot of food and 5x as much alcohol at this party, and knowing that I’d be with kids at 6:30 AM kept me in check (also the sore throat & cough that since turned into a fever & chills). As a few of us were standing in the corner of the kitchen eyeing the car bomb cupcakes and decided that it was time to break into them. I had tested an hour before, so a quick check of the Dexcom, and I yanked out my pump to bolus. I was keeping one ear in the conversation, and one eye on my pump. The ear in the conversation heard “hey! that phone looks like an insulin pump!” Both eyes came up to see who said it, and I took my eye off my pump. I explained that yes, it is an insulin pump; yes, it’s for the cupcake; and yes, I’m used to it. A quick convo about family history happened, and that was it. Diabetes was diabetes, St. Paddy’s was St. Paddy’s and good times were had by all.