The sign proclaimed “Irish Pub,” but the waiters’ t-shirts shouting, “Kiss My Blarney Stone” said otherwise. Tears for Fears and Keith Whitley covers-- it took five tries to enunciate BODD-ING-TONS to the bartender; I gave up and pointed to the tap. I did not want to rule the world. I was reminded how many shopping days I had left until the next St. Patrick’s Day (brought to me by Guinness), and my ass was inspected by men my father could have gone to high school with; still wearing their office-attire: ties loosened, khakis pleated.