As a third generation Irish American named Patrick, in honor of my mother's patronym, Fitzpatrick, I got so disgusted with the professional Hibernians' binge drinking on my name day that I gave up drinking entirely on that day, a one-day, one-man Lent to atone for the sins of my fellow Micks.
Imagine my dilemma recently on a Deutsche B.A, flight from Berlin to Munich on St. Patrick's Day, when a curvaceous flight attendant observing my name gave me a bottle of champagne to celebrate. I complied. Now that's sekt's appeal.
Back on earth, I renewed my pledge.
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