For the last three years, I've dressed up in my full kilt on New Years' Eve, explaining it as the most festive outfits I have on one of the year's most festive occasions.
But finally, I realized I have a better excuse: "Auld Lang Syne," which so many of us croon at the stroke of high midnight, was penned by Robert Burns -- a Scotsman! Hopefully I can remember this for next New Years' Eve.
As for the one that just happened, it found your humble servant and his family in San Diego's Gaslamp District enjoying dinner at The Field and wandering aimlessly through the revel that comprises the end-of-year frivolity. As usual, my kilt is longer than most of the skirts I see on the ladies.
Of course, the kilt got many looks, and many mentions. Of note are two: one from a proud Basque man who was eager to remind me a Scottish dance step comes from his people.
The other thought I was a pirate. Yes, a pirate. I wasn't even wearing my tricorn, fercryinoutloud.
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