I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it is March. This is truly spectacular, and by spectacular, I mean it is going to be absolutely out of control. I don’t want to speak to soon, but I’m too damn excited not to. I might march in the New York City St. Patrick’s Day parade as a member of my school’s fucking kick-ass pipe band. Now maybe some might not see this as a big deal, but as a kid whose fondest childhood memories are of going to his father’s firehouse every year for St. Pat’s, this is unreal. I grew up listening to the bagpipes. They played the pipes at my grandfather’s funeral and I will make damn sure they play them at my father’s. And, I have to imagine a guy in a kilt gets a few free drinks that day.
And besides, it’s just great to feel Irish. The music, the drinking, the cheer. It’s falling in love with spring. It’s what my people do. It’s what I do. No matter what happens, I always fall in love with this time of year. Life starts to grow and there’s nothing that can be done besides lay back, close your eyes and take a deep fresh breath of the blooming world that is around you. And Guinness is great fucking beer.