Where to Go on St. Patrick's Day in New York

I love my roots. To me there's nothing better than being a little Irish and a little Italian, with some Polish and Scottish mixed in there too. Celebrating my Irish Duffy-ness started March 7 in Hoboken and yesterday my Facebook status read: "I am getting my a** kicked by St. Patrick. Two down and the BIG one to go."

Last Saturday about 10 of us met at Fashionista's apartment by the Path just before noon. Well, some people were there around 10:30 a.m. I showed up late to LittleMissSunshine screaming, "Where are our T-shirts?!?!" GoldenTee offered to make us party girls some party shirts. It's his new thing. The front had St. Patrick in Gaelic and the back read "Poke Me, I'm Irish."

"Oh hold your horses! They're right here."

We assessed and adjusted everyone's green garb (BYOW surprised us all with his I Shamrock NJ tee), snacked on bagels and donuts, and made ourselves roadies before we headed to house parties in Jersey. A friend asked me earlier on in the week which bars I was going to.

"Ummm ... I don't do bars on Hoboken St. Pat's."

We made that mistake as amateurs the first year I lived in the city and we vowed to never do it again. Each year I tell myself I've outgrown Hoboken St. Pat's. I come back to the city on a packed train with drunkards hooting and hollering (OK, some of them are my friends) like it's Mardi Gras thinking, "Why? Why? Why?" Then each February the day creeps up, I hear rumblings of plans and I ditch the disinterest for excitement. Anything to look forward to in these awful last days of winter! Can we spring ahead to Memorial Day, please?

This past weekend Fashionista and I bought tickets to the St. Patty's bar crawl in New York. I'd never done it before and was encouraged by TheTustler to sign up. A friend of mine had people over to his apartment for Irish coffees and breakfast and we headed out after that. I don't know if I'd ever do it again. The first place we landed for registration, T.G. Whitney's, was a little heavy on the B&T crowd. And I ended up keeping the one thing I thought would make it worth it -- the sheet of paper that qualified me for winning a trip to Ireland. Come to think of it, I'm sure I would have had a 1 in 2 chance of winning. I mean, how many people who started drinking at 11 a.m. were going to remember to turn it in? Not many.

I've recovered from Saturday with a couple of solid, in-bed-by-8:30-p.m. nights' sleep. In store for me today is a NYPD party at Pier 51: free food, beer and a pipe band. What more could you ask for? I can't be burned out on St. Patty's Day without celebrating the real deal with our city's finest.

If you're rallying friends for a last-minute Guinness, here are a few bars you should check out, where you're guaranteed to smooch at least one Irishman without running into the hordes of drunk tourists and parade-goers.

The Bravest on 38th, 700 Second Ave., at 38th. You're guaranteed to run into firemen here.
Dublin House, 225 W. 79th St., between Broadway and Amsterdam
Ear Inn, 326 Spring St., near Greenwich St.
The Emerald Inn, 205 Columbus Ave., near 69th St.
ForOhOne, address unlisted, somewhere in Greenwich Village
Kinsale Tavern, 1672 Third Ave., near 94th St.
Paddy Reilly's, 519 Second Ave., at 29th St.
Puck Fair, 298 Lafayette Street, at Houston Street
Swift Hibernian Lounge, 34 E. 4th St., near Bowery
Ulysess, 95 Pearl St., at Hanover Sq.

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone. Thanks to a few spirited co-workers, I'm stuffing my face on Irish soda bread and green bagels. If I don't see you in green you're getting a pinch so look out.

And since I'm such a mushy sap, bordering on total cheeseball, I leave you with this Irish blessing:

Wishing you a rainbow
For sunlight after showers—
Miles and miles of Irish smiles
For golden happy hours—
Shamrocks at your doorway
For luck and laughter too,
And a host of friends that never ends
Each day your whole life through!