It's easy to fall in love with Ireland, because it falls in love with you right back.

I visited Dublin in the summer of 2005 and quickly came to the realization that it is the friendliest city on Earth. As far as European cities are concerned, the fuzzy warmth radiating from Dublin cannot be matched elsewhere. Dublin holds the title for "European City with the Most Friendly and Helpful Locals", according to a 2008 Trip Advisor poll, as it has for three years in a row. (It also comes as no surprise that Paris is at the bottom of that list with the "Most Unfriendly Hosts," and London is Europe's dirtiest culture hub.)

By day, Dublin is quaint and beautiful. The city rises from green meadows. Gaelic architecture adorns the landscape with triangles and tiny windows. The air feels fresh and dewy, healing and magical.

By night, the touristy Temple Bar area is like a giant living room, laughter bubbling from the pubs into the narrow streets. The night glows under the warmth of orange street lamps and the sweet, wholesome smell of hops fills the air. 

It was on such a night that I tasted the most delicious pie I have ever eaten, a steak and ale masterpiece with fluffy pastry, crisp to the bite, served with the creamiest mashed potatoes ever to grace a plate. I spent the evening wandering from pub to pub with my family, drinking my weight in Guinness and flirting with curly-haired Irishmen. I am a Henry, after all. Distantly descended from County Tyrone, outside Dublin, ancient territory of the O'Neill's. Not-so-distantly descended from an Irish great grand-father on my mother's side. 

It's no wonder that St. Patrick's Day is one of our most beloved holidays. In England, poor old St. George barely gets noticed when his time comes around the following month (this year, on April 23,) despite being the patron saint of the country. London barely raises an eyebrow. Yet, celebrating all that is Irish continues to be a well-attended event in England, a tradition that fills the pubs and empties the Guinness barrels. It's the one day of the year where drinking heavily is promoted as a cultural nod to our ancestors. Here in Los Angeles, anyone with a trickle of Irish blood in their veins (which is almost everyone) dons an "I love Ireland" T-shirt and heads to Molly Malone's on Fairfax for a pint of the iconic black stout. 

But thanks to multimillion-dollar advertising campaigns, including the campaign to make March 17th a national holiday both here and in England, St. Patrick's Day has increasingly begun to feel like National Guinness Day. In England, Guinness is at the center of a national drinking binge. I worked as a bar maid in my late teens at pubs on the outskirts of London, and March 17th always meant wearing Guinness T-shirts and hats, crawling down into the cellar to change the barrel every hour and expecting someone to start a fight.  

In the last few years, facing huge revenue losses in their homeland, the Guinness people have been trying to take ownership of St. Patrick's Day on an international scale, much like Hallmark has Valentine's Day or Hershey's has Halloween. Here in Los Angeles, 5,174 miles from Dublin, you'll notice the cardboard plaques and coasters decorating pub tables, asking you to "unite with Guinness" and "sign the petition to make St. Patrick's Day a national holiday." In the past, television ads have tried to paint March 17th a green Christmas. This year, Guinness challenges all the traditional holidays with its "Treat St. Patrick's Day like a real holiday" campaign. Even the thanksgiving pilgrim admits he is scared.  

The inundation is beginning to feel blasphemous. This is the second year that the Dublin-based company has attempted to pass proposition 3-17, giving us all a day off to spend drinking Guinness. But there are plenty of other significant days waiting in line to become national holidays in the United States, like September 11. And if England doesn't even get a day off for its own patron saint, why should St. Patrick warrant different standards?    

Nevertheless, Guinness continues to market St. Patrick's Day for its own commercial gain, trying to brand it the next Christmas. In 2006, the Marin Institute, an "alcohol industry watchdog" in the U.K., accused the Diageo Company --  owner of the Guinness product -- of violating its own marketing code with irresponsible advertising:

"In an effort to make St. Patrick's Day more than just a one-day celebration, the company's Guinness brand has launched a multimillion-dollar campaign with the tag line, "Treat St. Patrick's Day like a real holiday." In one 30-second TV commercial three young men wake up on St. Patrick's Day morning and race downstairs in their pajamas to gaze wide-eyed at a pile of wrapped packages under a keg of Guinness draped with garlands. The young men excitedly rip the paper off six-packs and cases of Guinness as the camera pulls back to show them kneeling in front of the keg. The ad unambiguously envokes [sic] a child's delight on Christmas morning. But in place of toys and games, the young men are depicted on their knees before an enormous quantity of beer."

Despite what it might be becoming, especially in England, St. Patrick's Day isn't a celebration of alcohol. It's a celebration of Ireland, the land of stew, pies and the friendliest city in Europe. There is more to celebrate than a brand of stout. Try sipping a glass of Irish Cream liquor, cooking an Irish stew and watching "The Boondock Saints," "In the Name of the Father," "Angela's Ashes," "Gangs of New York" or Michael Flatley's "Lord of the Dance."