I love it for two reasons, one stupidly personal and the other historical.
Stupidly personal first: I'm Irish, and went to an Irish/Catholic college. St. Paddy's Day was always like Mardi Gras and the Fourth of July rolled into one. The routine - nay, the demanding necessity - was to wake at 7am, throw on the Pogues or the Chieftans, and choke down that first beer...you know, the one that tasted like biting on tinfoil. Seventeen hours later, the wheat had been separated from the chaff, and only the strong survived to tap the midnight keg of Guinness.
I told you: Stupid. But a whole lot of fun.
The historical reason for my love of this day has to do with why we in Boston refer to this as Evacuation Day.
In 1776, the colonists were losing the war. The British Navy had invested Boston Harbor and had all guns trained on the city. With a single order, the fleet admiral could have reduced Boston to scattered matchsticks and splinters.
George Washington was therefore forced into a desperate gamble. He sent Henry Knox and a small band of fighters way the hell into the northern corner of New York State to attack Fort Ticonderoga. The fort was unimportant and barely manned, so Knox and his men used surprise and took it with relative ease.
Then, in one of the most profound feats of endurance in American history, Knox and his people dragged the Ticonderoga cannons through the February snows, using oxen and horses, all the way from West Nowhere, New York to Boston.
Washington used these cannons in a desperate gamble. In the dark of night, he arrayed them on earthenworks on Dorchester Heights and aimed them down at the sleeping British fleet. The fleet admiral awoke to find his ships under those guns, and saw that he was unable to reach the guns with his own armament. He decided it was time to go, and in March of 1776, the British fleet and all British troops left Boston forever.
What that fleet admiral did not know was that Washington was bluffing. He had the cannons, yes. But he had neither powder nor ball to load into them. The guns of Ticonderoga were dead empty, a bluff by a great general who was hanging on by his fingernails. It worked.
Happy Evacuation Day.
*pinch*