Everything's gone green.

Yup, it's that day of the year. I have to concur with NPR Weekend Edition Sunday's culinary essayist Bonny Wolf, who suggested trying a real Irish drink instead of PBR dyed green. If you're lucky enough to find them, be adventurous and go for the slightly smoother tastes of Murphy's and Beamish stout over Guinness. Or better yet hoist a wee dram of Bushmill's neat. You could even do much worse than Kilkenny Irish (a red) or Harp (a lager). Just forgo the green.

I've never been a huge "let's get our Paddy on" kind of guy, but I do have a few memorable St. Patrick's Day experiences. I went to college in the Boston metro area, and one of my swimming teammates was Irish Catholic, Southie-raised. So I survived my one March 17th foray into "authenticity" under the protection of a local. BTW, St. Patrick's Day as a drinking festival was first celebrated by immigrants in Boston in 1737. At Stanford, I passed my PhD orals on the St. Patrick's Day of my third year there. In Starkville, there was the CD release party for Young Agent Jones' debut Discretion is Our Profession at Dave's.