While most “men” who celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day are rarely actually Irish but instead solely retired frat boys (albeit frat boys can never really retire), there’s still the intermittent brogue sporter that will use his best attempt at connecting to a woman in a bar via their assumed shared heritage.
Though, to be sure, the city of New York is rife with Irishwomen (did Brooklyn teach you nothing?), just because a girl has pale skin and/or red hair doesn’t give a fella the right to chat her up with cheesy jokes about drunk priests and potatoes (inanimate objects can get drunk too in Ireland). When the victim of his flirtation–not wearing green, much to his dismay–finds the chance to tell him she’s not Irish, he’ll up the annoyance ante with a line like, “Anybody can be Irish if you add an “O'” to the front of their last name. I’ve also got other ways of puttin’ a little Irish in ya…”
It is around this point that the female in question will inwardly condemn herself for believing she could be permitted the luxury of drinking in the daylight on Saint Patrick’s Day, the one time it’s too early for a “man” to Irish goodbye.
