In the spirit of cross-cultural good will, I decided to sample another ethnic holiday that provides an excuse to go to a bar.

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I've written before about St. David's Day, which celebrates the patron saint of the Welsh and includes a pub crawl Downtown. From what I hear, St. David's Day is not a pub-based holiday so much in Wales, but we'll straighten them out eventually.

Look what we did for St. Patrick's Day, which the Irish traditionally spent in church. Please. You can do that any Sunday, people. Think outside the pew.

One of the great things about this country is that you don't have to be stuck with the traditions that are your legitimate inheritance. You can try the combo plate. You can drink Guinness on St. Pat's without being Irish, you can drink tequila on Cinco de Mayo without being Mexican and you can drink Manischewitz on Passover without being Jewish, if you really want to.

So I drove out to the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern for Dyngus (also spelled Dingus, which is funnier) Day, a Polish and otherwise Slavic and Eastern European-type tradition for the day after Easter. It sounded charmingly pagan and goofy, as it was described to me: In a spring mating ritual, men chase women around and squirt water at them. After the sobriety of Lent and the holiness of Easter, it's time for merriment.

And merriment should be fun, right?

At the tavern, there was definitely a party in progress. There were people bunched outside in the parking lot, and tables with water bottles on them.

This was the first bad sign. Not water pistols, but plant misters that hold like a half-gallon of water and emit either a soaking spray or a laser-like stream that can erode rocks.

The second bad sign: Women wearing lawn-and-leaf bags.

Still -- there was a polka band playing. There were lots of people. Surely, there was merriment within.

"Is that a suede jacket?" a woman asked.

"It's washable suede," I said. She looked worried.

"There's a $9 cover," said the guy at the door.

"Nine dollars?" I asked. Wow, this must be terrific. Maybe there's free cabbage rolls. I was hungry and really looking forward to a beer. I paid the $9.

And I walked into a car wash.

Baying attackers surrounded me. Some aimed for the face, spraying my glasses and blinding me. Others went right for more personal regions. I believe the correct ethnic term is "dupa."

I fought my way to the bar, thinking the pack would lose interest, but the circle pulled tighter and they continued to fire at point-blank range.

"OK," I said inaudibly. "That's fine. Thank you. That's enough." It was like talking to a fire hose. Holding my hands near my face, I staggered back out the door.

Every head outside turned; I was soaked to the skin. I would have been less wet if I had actually been swimming.

"Where's the fun in that?" I demanded.

"Wait!" Someone lunged at me and tried to hand me a babushka and a water bottle of my own. I stared at him. The phrase "madder than a wet hen" suddenly had a whole new meaning. Where was this guy two minutes ago?

"Wait, here, you can --"

"No! I've had enough merriment!"

The token gentleman on the premises ran to get a towel from his car.

"I thought you looked too nice," he explained.

"Not anymore," I said, toweling off.

As a cultural adventure, it was enlightening. I have a new respect for the patience and forbearance of Polish women. In, say, Ireland, women would have developed nuclear weapons.

After I squished home, dried off, changed and finally got some refreshment, I did some overdue research. One bit of Dyngus Day lore is that it commemorates Polish Princess Wanda, who drowned herself rather than marry a German nobleman she didn't love. Unlike me, she probably wasn't planning to stop at the supermarket afterward.

But Dyngus Day is not just about men soaking women. It's also about bars soaking patrons.

No, wait -- it's supposed to include a retaliatory component, where the women get to hit men with switches. Seriously! They get to whip them with pussywillows, to be specific. (Insert your own joke here.)

One source said women get revenge on Tuesday, when they get to throw dishes and assorted crockery at men. I'm so ready.

Anyway, if you want to recreate the Dyngus Day experience next year, it's very simple: Go to the nearest river, take $9 out of your wallet and throw it in. Then jump in after it.

Don't forget your waterproof babushka.