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When Clan Gregor Came to San Antonio

Kilts, Bagpipes, and Haggis on the River Walk: Clan Gregor Takes San Antonio

If you were anywhere near downtown San Antonio last weekend and heard the unmistakable wail of bagpipes echoing off the walls of the Alamo, no, you weren’t hallucinating. That was the American Clan Gregor Society in full Highland glory, descending upon the city for our Annual Gathering—and let me tell you, it was a tartan-clad spectacle of epic proportions.

We came. We piped. We addressed the haggis. And we made kilts a fashion statement along the River Walk that no one will soon forget.

šŸ° A Highland Invasion in the Heart of Texas

San Antonio, with its rich history and vibrant culture, was the perfect backdrop for our gathering. The River Walk transformed into a runway of plaid as members of Clan Gregor strutted their stuff in kilts, sporrans, and enough clan pride to make William Wallace weep.

Tourists did double takes. Locals asked questions. One confused child pointed at Sir Malcolm MacGregor and whispered, ā€œIs that Scottish Santa?ā€ (It wasn’t. But honestly, not a bad guess.)

šŸŽ¶ Bagpipes and Brotherhood

The festivities kicked off with the stirring sound of bagpipes filling the air. There’s something about that music—it’s ancient, haunting, and somehow makes you feel like you could charge into battle or cry into a dram of whisky, depending on the mood.

Our pipers led a procession through the streets, turning heads and stopping traffic. Sir Malcolm MacGregor, our Hereditary Chieftain, marched at the front with regal poise and a smile that said, ā€œYes, I am wearing a kilt, and yes, I’m in charge.ā€

We gathered at a historic venue near the Alamo, where the pipes echoed through the stone walls and reminded everyone that Clan Gregor is not just a name—it’s a legacy.

🄃 The Address to the Haggis: A Theatrical Triumph

No true Scottish gathering is complete without the ceremonial Address to the Haggis. And let me tell you, we did not disappoint.

A brave soul—armed with a broadsword-sized knife and a flair for theatrics—delivered Robert Burns’ ode to the ā€œgreat chieftain o’ the puddin’-raceā€ with such gusto that even the haggis looked impressed. The crowd cheered. Whisky was poured. Someone yelled ā€œSlĆ inte!ā€ and nearly knocked over a centerpiece.

The haggis itself? Surprisingly delicious. Earthy, spicy, and oddly comforting. Even the skeptics gave it a try, and one Texan was overheard saying, ā€œTastes like brisket with a Scottish accent.ā€

šŸ‘‘ Sir Malcolm MacGregor: The Chieftain, The Legend

Having our Hereditary Chieftain, Sir Malcolm MacGregor, join us was an honor beyond words. He spoke with warmth, wisdom, and just the right amount of dry humor. He reminded us of our roots, our resilience, and our responsibility to carry the name of MacGregor with pride.

He also posed for about 300 selfies, signed programs, and graciously accepted being made a Honorary Texas Ranger.

šŸŒ† Kilts on the River Walk: A Cultural Collision

As the weekend unfolded, Clan Gregor members took to the River Walk like plaid-clad ambassadors of joy. We dined, we danced, we posed for photos with mariachi bands. One group of us even rode a riverboat, bagpipes in tow, serenading unsuspecting diners with ā€œScotland the Brave.ā€

The Alamo stood stoically nearby, probably wondering what century it was. We paid our respects, of course—because history recognizes history. And while our ancestors may not have fought in Texas, they’d surely appreciate the spirit of independence and the love of a good party.

šŸ’« The Legacy Lives On

The Annual Gathering wasn’t just about kilts and haggis—it was about connection. Old friends reunited. New members were welcomed. Stories were shared, laughter echoed, and the spirit of Clan Gregor burned bright in every toast, every tune, and every tartan.

As we packed up our banners and bagpipes, we left San Antonio with full hearts, sore feet, and a few confused Uber drivers who now know more about Scottish clans than they ever expected.

Until next year, Clan Gregor. May your kilts stay pressed, your whisky stay smooth, and your haggis never be questioned.

SlĆ inte mhath!