Saturday, the 3rd, and Sunday, the 4th.
After an early drop off at Sky Harbor, I was kindly given a verbal send off by Dayn, as he recanted his new and ever-fair adventures in Nebraska. Onto the plane…with a giant man who not only spoke zero English, but honestly should have had to purchase 2 tickets, or at least compensate me for using half of my space. While not a written rule, its pretty clear that, when in the situation of a communal plane armrest, to share it somewhat equitably. But I guess in the case of the French, if you are enormous, have a mild odor, and buy everything on the plane snack menu, you get the entire armrest and half of your neighbors chair…o well, life’s not fair, and I survived.
After an early drop off at Sky Harbor, I was kindly given a verbal send off by Dayn, as he recanted his new and ever-fair adventures in Nebraska. Onto the plane…with a giant man who not only spoke zero English, but honestly should have had to purchase 2 tickets, or at least compensate me for using half of my space. While not a written rule, its pretty clear that, when in the situation of a communal plane armrest, to share it somewhat equitably. But I guess in the case of the French, if you are enormous, have a mild odor, and buy everything on the plane snack menu, you get the entire armrest and half of your neighbors chair…o well, life’s not fair, and I survived.
I landed in Toronto, and was quickly informed my flight was delayed. I was incredibly relieved, because I had been worrying that my 3 hour lay-over was cutting it close, 4.5 hours was so much more comforting…phew. (that was me being sarcastic, I hope you could tell). So after playing some phone tag with home and spending about $10 between the cell phone, credit card, and calling card, I realized that the phone card people refuse to inform me that the US number works in Canada, stupid me, that makes perfect sense…not. But, World Cup Soccer was there to save me, so I thought. I take a seat at the bar, and with my first glass of beer came the long-awaited waft of the extra-special French perfume…apparently even a bartender does not use Deo for the B.O. Anyway, two American beers and one German victory, I proceeded to ask for the bill. $21…get fu*@ed. I don’t care if youre ordering beer at the Pope’s bar, that’s way too frickin much money for 2 Coors Lights. Whatever, Im over it, off to the plane. With a full stomach of beer, I naturally was on my way to a few bathroom trips…but wait…window seat…shit.
I don’t know if it was the combination of the man sitting in my seat that had to move (and seriously, world, figure out how to find your seat on a plane, it’s a matching game, your ticket seat number + the number on the frickin ceiling = your ass…figure it out), or if some of the bartender stink rubbed off on me, or what, but my seat partner, that I once again conceded my armrest to, was quite hesitant to allow my use of the bathroom. Anyway, I flew through the night, or morning, or something, and finally arrived to Ireland around 9:30am Irish time. I hopped a bus to the train station, and proceeded to pay roughly $90 for a 3 hour train ride…sorry Dad, that one wasn’t cheap, nor was it paid for. But round 3, no sleep.
Finally, I arrive in beautiful Cork…and yes, I mean it. Rolling green hills, large two-story block estates, views of the Atlantic, sheep, and little orange haired people…all what I expected but better in the flesh. Next time you get in your car, get in the passenger’s side, and pretend you’re driving…I cringed at every turn because we were on the WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD! Not really, but it still feels like it. After the cab ride, I got to my apartment, checked in, and met up with Jay. We headed off the the Supermarket, neglected to rent a cart, but did buy our grocery bags. America, you should take a tip here, I think it actually saves the environment and money (amen Virtue Ishihara). $175 dollars later, and only 4 big-ass shopping bags, we headed back to the apartment. Afterwards, we walked into town, had a very manly dinner date, and I guess it appeared as I was hitting on the waitress as I gave a $3 tip for an $18 meal…apparently tips don’t go above 10% here…so sorry honey, don’t get too excited about my $3 tip.
Finish unpacking, make my bed, sleep.
O wait, drunk screaming girls at 2:30am…when you’re in high school, coed living sounds like a step from heaven, now, it seems like a close-second to a vacation to hell. In a combination of kind words and a few explicit ones, I quickly took the reigns of grumpy kid in room 1…but hey, they quieted down, and I slept.
No comments:
Post a Comment