Had a friend in college who was a nut for Scottish history and heritage. Every Saturday at noon he and his roomie (who was an Irish nut: what are the odds that Campus Housing could put two guys like that together) would crank up
Braveheart on their VCR and spend the next three hours getting all liquored up drinking Scotch while watching William Wallace crack open English skulls. Drew's dorm-room closet had at least three swords, a couple of daggers, a mace and – no joke – a flail: history professors used to come by his room to ogle his armory. The title of his history thesis – arguing that a well-known index of Scottish tartans is inaccurate – was "The Good, the Plaid, and the Ugly". And every Saint Patrick's Day Drew and his roomie, and usually about two or three other guys that he conned into the gag, would run around campus wearing Scottish kilts.
Drew kept asking me if I wanted to wear a kilt, and I never took him up on it: I would have probably looked too "dude looks like a lady" if you know what I mean. So I guess that I'll never know what it was that I was missing by not wearing one...
...on second thought, maybe that's a GOOD thing. Sheesh, what can be said but "God save the Queen."
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