Saturday, the 10th
At 12:45 in the
early afternoon, I get a bang on my door…WTF?! I’m sleeping. “Stephen, get your ass up, were going to
Dingle and our bus leaves downtown in 30 minutes.” Fifteen minutes later, I rolled out of bed,
stuffed some undies and a rain jacket in my bag…and Aaron and Jay carried me to
the cab. Back to sleep for 3 hours. Sorry folks…scenery sucked…rain, clouds, fog,
smeared windows. But I will humor
you…the rolling green hills were speckled with bleached white sheep,
leprechauns roamed the field gently picking cotton off the sheep as beautiful
farm-maiden milked cows ever so daintily…not…I slept all the way there whilst
staring at the inside of my eye-lids.
We arrive in
Dingle, a town that doubles its population in the summer…2,400. Doug, that means they have 1,200 in the
winter. We asked about 6 people for
directions along one of the three major roads as we trekked through the rain on
our way to the Grapevine hostel. Johnny
greeted us…and led us to our four man bedroom the size of a small dorm room…it's
not like the movie…our roommate was a nice lady from SF, named Letitia.
“You down for
some food” says Stephen. Sorry, I hadn’t
eaten anything since the chicken and ass sandwich I bought for 5 Euros at the
bus station. With the local
recommendation, we ended up at John Benny Something’s, and were instantly
berated by the waitress for not ordering beers…get over it lady. Jay proceeded to order a beef and Guinness
stew, which we pronounced Gweeness just to piss off the waitress, it worked,
just after asking her what the soup of the day was, which she made us guess…bull
shit waitress, you suck.
After dinner, we
stopped at the local carnival and took pictures with Snoop-a-Loop. How often does a 50 Cent and Snoop Dogg
themed carnival run through a town of 2,400…I dunno, but that’s some rare stuff
right there. Snoop and Fidy do Dingle,
and I saw it happen. Aaron, sorry, but
your night gets shitty from here on out…step 1…buy a wrong way bus ticket…step
2…spill your ice-cream at the ice cream parlor…step 3…get kissed by David, the
gay man at Paul Gainey’s…step 4, hop on the grenade for Jay.
Ladies and
gentlemen, here is the breakdown. While
sitting at the internet café, we decide to buy our train tickets back to Cork,
I repeat, BACK TO CORK. Aaron prints
reservation #1, one way ticket from Cork to Dingle please…well done mate. Next stop, ice cream parlor…hey Aaron, how
bout you lick your ice cream off the cone onto the table. That’s pretty shitty, 2 bus tickets and no
ice cream…all you need is a little consoling and a kiss on the cheek…FROM A
DUDE! Here’s a Frommer’s fun fact…introduce
yourself to a man at a potential GB, and you find David lookin for some Dingle
in Dingle…what a lucky guy. Jay, you’re
not getting off easy, you got a nice planter on the head as well. Folks, David quietly told Aaron that he was
not into me…phew, no kisses. To top off
the bus ticket ice cream kiss, we reconnected with our long lost Irish
friends…Bridene and Jess…Dingle natives.
As Jay smooth talked his way next to Bridene, I sat off to the side and,
sorry Aaron, but I fed my right hand man to the wolves…dick move Steve. I was still a little put-off that I couldn’t
attract any late-nite score in Dingle (Mom definitely just made a face).
The Irish girls
suggest we go surf with them at 7am, but they also insist it will rain all
day…hmmm…no thanks honey, we will pass.
Back to the hostel, Johnny says bread and jam is free…perfect, drunchy
monsters round II, this time, it’s our food.
I may or may not have stolen some honey from another guest, the truth
remains untold. Johnny rolls in around
2am…hammered drunk…we all go to sleep…separately…without David.
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