Once upon a time there was this dude in Ireland. He was a slave, but then he escaped, and did a bunch of religious stuff. So he goes back to Ireland and starts converting people to Christianity, which really ticks off all these Celtic druids, but hey, what are you gonna do?

Long story short, he died on March 17 about 1,500 years ago and now we enjoy delicious frothy drafts in his memory. What a guy.

Really, could there be a better holiday?

But this year, St. Patty’s Day just won’t be the same. Alas, no amount of green beer, Guinness or shamrocks will keep this from being the most bittersweet day of the entire semester.

Allow me to explain.

You know how in “Napoleon Dynamite” Uncle Rico never gets over the day his coach didn’t put him in the big game? I have a similarly pathetic obsession with my semester in Ireland.

Honestly, I will never live down the day I dragged myself onto that plane and returned to this lame ass excuse for a continent. You really don’t realize how much fun you’re missing out on over here until you’ve spent a night in Galway’s King’s Head pub with a bunch of Irish seamen. It’s like Disneyland on crack.

But I digress. In all seriousness, Ireland is truly my happy place, and I can’t believe I won’t be there to celebrate with the lads and lasses on the most Irish day of the year.

What will tonight be without a few Gaelic swears? What about the drinking songs? Will I live without a pint of Bulmer’s cider, the sweet, sweet nectar of the gods? I sincerely doubt it.

Instead I get to hang out at Fairfield beach with a bunch of Italian’s trying to convince me that their great-great-grandmother’s cousin was from County Cork.

I’ll nod sympathetically, and choke down my Busch Light, which might have a little bit of green food coloring in it if I’m lucky. Oh, for shame!

Right now I’m in the process of drafting a letter to Irish Prime Minister Bertie Ahern. I am convinced that once he sees the severity of my situation that I’ll receive some sort of refugee status.

But until that day, dear friends, we must take our lemons and make lemonade. So put on your green. Pass me a beer. Pog ma thoin.

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