I learned a few things over the weekend. The first is that when St. Patrick’s Day falls on a Monday, it expands to the rear to fill the entire weekend. The second is that I do not find it fun to go to overcrowded bars and watch intoxicated people attempt to pick each other up. The third is that the aforementioned lack of fun is mitigated somewhat by watching a guy get a drink thrown in his face, but not enough to make it worthwhile. The fourth is that most St. Patrick’s Day apparel isn’t really very attractive at all, and the uglier it is the more likely it is that the wearer believes it to be lovely – presumably even before they started drinking. The fifth is that apparently more than a few middle aged men appeared to be dating their daughters, or at least renting them. The sixth is that if there are too many people in the bar you can’t even hear the band. The seventh is that there are very few places for a guy with a bad hip and a cane to sit in a crowded St. Patrick’s Day bar. The eighth is that drunk St. Patrick’s Day revelers are not likely to give up their chair for a guy with a cane. The ninth was that going was a bad idea. The tenth was that it looked even worse the morning after, though not for the same reason it probably did for a lot of other people I saw that night.