This blog is a few weeks late because I've been ultra-studious lately. Anywho. For everyone who said people in Ireland don't have a good time on St. Patrick's Day, you're wrong. Really, really wrong. This blog is entirely way too long, but these stories must be told.
The story of getting to Dublin deserves a blog of its own. Long story short, our taxi driver had absolutely no idea where he was going. When we finally got to the airport, we shamelessly cut everyone at the check-in line, sprinted to our plane, and just barely made it. Oh, did I mention we had to get up at 2:30 AM to catch our flight? I figured I would be able to sleep on the plane, but I was too entertained by the swarm of green around me. One guy ahead of us was asked to give his beer, which he somehow snuck onto the plane, to a flight attendant. Instead, he decided he would chug the entire 6 pack. Props to you big guy. You deserved... and probably needed an aisle seat after that.
As soon as we got to Dublin, we headed out for festivities. Our Canadian friends heard there was a famous radio personality at the Jameson Distillery. Being the ambitious crowd we are, we figured we would go meet him. We not only got into the event, but we also managed to be on the air and stay for free drinks.
Later that night we went to a Patty's Day bash at Howl at the Moon, a bar which I was later told multiple people have died at from falling over the balconies. However, the highlight of the night was our friend Jeff and his beloved whistle. Since we were with a group of at least 20 people, it was hard to travel around. Concerned with everyone's safety, Jeff deemed himself has traffic conductor. As we approached an intersection, he would run ahead, blow his whistle and hold his hand out in front of all the cars. This was, surprisingly, very efficient... not to mention hilarious.
The next day we went sightseeing around Dublin. A lot of neat history. My favorite spot was the park outside of St. Patrick's Cathedral. It seemed like a popular place to just relax and it was obvious why. Everything about this park was light, bright, and beautiful. A few of our friends on exchange go to Trinity College so we decided to stop by there as well. We even managed to catch the beginning of a rugby match.
That night was an interesting one. I had gotten absolutely no sleep since two nights before and I was running on empty... to the point where I took a nap while waiting for my food at lunch. However, in my defense... I was tired, the food took two hours to come, and the booth had pillows. It was a sign, right? Anyways, I managed to find enough energy, tucked away in my newly grown love handles, to meet the boys for dinner with Morgan.
As we were leaving the hostile, I heard someone yelling. All of a sudden, I realized this middle-aged woman and her son were screaming at us. Before I continue, maybe I should try to describe these two so you can visualize this in your head.
The woman was in her 40's, but looked about 50. In her left hand she was holding a beer; and even though her right arm was in a sling, she managed to be smoking a cigarette from that hand. Quite the multi-tasker that one. Her son was probably at about my shoulder's height and he was just as inebriated. What a couple.
After about a minute of screaming, I realized they wanted the time. I quickly told them and kept walking. The lady continued to follow us and started touching me. Anyone that knows me, knows I value my personal bubble space to the fullest. My immediate reaction was to tell her to quit touching me, obviously, and to grab my purse. I thought maybe they were trying to pick-pocket us. The woman continued to follow us and ask us where we were from. We ignored her until she pushed Morgan and said told us to get out of her country and go back to ours. (Expletives Omitted) So, this lady is getting physical? Not cool. I told her to "chill out" or I was going to call the cops. Her response to that? Invading my bubble yet again, telling me never to say that to her again, and a slap in the face... a cherry on top in my opinion.
Thinking about this woman now, she was pretty extraordinary. Her hands were tied up yet she still managed to push Morgan, slap me, and sprint after us. Think about those skills channeled into something positive. I bet she could make lunch, take the dog for a walk, and check her e-mail... all while driving to her afternoon Pilates class.
After this ordeal we met up with the boys, Jeff and his whistle included. He was ecstatic to direct traffic for the night. However, the first car he stopped happened to be an unmarked police car. They jumped out of the car, grabbed him by his shirt, and took the whistle. One officer asked him if he thought he was funny. He explained he did and that's why he was doing it. Luckily, that is all that happened and Jeff managed to stay out of jail. Quite an eventful two days if you ask me.
