"She did," he nodded. "This...country has my head all mixed up. Or it did. The Patrick in Ireland, he still looks like I always did. Tall, dark, roguishly handsome in a very annoying way," he chuckled. "And I look like I belong on a parade float. Saint Patrick's Day parades, all that is an American invention. And I forgot what parts of me were saint and what parts of me were a holiday which is an excuse to drink as much as possible. Hence...bar fights and alcoholism. She wrote a book about demystifying the Patrick myths, and it sort of got my head on straight again. I started remembering my past, which I had forgotten so much of. She's amazing."