I'm not Irish. Not even close. In fact, I'm so not Irish that I usually forget it's St. Patrick's Day until I'm reminded by a storefront four-leaf clover or beer specials or something.
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So it's a total coincidence that I wore a bright green shirt today. Walking down Broadway at noon, I was confused by all the head nods, smiles and knowing looks I was getting from fellow pedestrians. Hmm, I thought, everybody seems happy for an ordinary Tuesday. It wasn't until the guy with the green Mardi Gras beads winked at me outside of a pawn shop that I realized what all of these well-wishers had in common: They, like me, were wearing green shirts.
So today -- hurrah! -- I am one of the St. Patrick's Day revelers. Even if it is by accident.