Granted I’m of Welsh and Russian descent, I still like getting down on St. Patrick’s Day. “Everyone’s Irish today,” I believe is how the brothers MacManus put it. Recent highlights of past celebrations include hassling a Bostonian in Boston as to what the ‘B’ on the ball cap stood for and waking up in Harlem with a dame not knowing where my jacket or shirt was, nor her name. Oh to be young again. Alas, we grow, I no longer miss that jacket or shirt, and I’ve moved on to better company. If only I had someone with whom to arm wrestle in green pants… Bonobos makes it look like too much fun. I got Bailey’s and Jager, you bring the Guinness.
