I know I’m supposed to be excited
about St Patrick’s day. I’m even a little bit Irish (about 1/32nd, great-grandmother was half Irish.)
But a couple of years of SPD meaning unpleasant encounters with drunken bridge and tunnel fratboys (in the zone from 4th to 60th street between 3rd and 9th avenue) really takes the zest out of the holiday. The copious amounts of green puke certainly don’t help.
In fact, this is pretty much my least favorite day of the year to be in New York. Even the 4th of July is less of a hassle. And nobody who lives here wants to be here for Independence day.
