Saturday, the 17th
Likely as a
product of going to bed at 4am, I woke up at noon…made a big-ass breakfast
burrito, and barely made the 3:10 to Yuma…err, the 1:30 to the busted up
castle/fort/church place. On the way
there, some wounded soldiers needed to re-live their prior night’s consumables,
but in reverse…bus stopped 3 times for vomit, 2 times for directions, and 1
time just for the poetic value of this story.
To make the situation even more beautiful, Robert was in attendance,
spilling knowledge with every step he took.
Damien,
I am sorry, but the last 2 weeks have trained me to tune you out, so I have no
idea what the historical background of these ruins are. You did say it had the first Irish toilet, so
who else but Zeke hopped up on the pot and made his best #2
pose…priceless. Zeke, I gotta one-up you
though…I’ve got British banana hammocks and I’m showin’ the world…so I
proceeded to take a seat on the toilet as well, in true #2 fashion…boom
Ireland, leavin’ my mark.
Moments
prior, I realized that Aaron was actually missing out on some pretty “sweet
sh*t”. So we documented the trip
carefully, maybe or maybe not intentionally placing Zeke in every single photo
we took, 30 if anyone was counting.
Zeke…stay beautiful. After
loading, driving to the Rock of Cashel, not vomiting, and then unloading the
bus, Zeke informed me that my RED AND BLACK shirt was just a few gay-la-watts
from pink…Zeke, that’s twice. I teared
up but was able to hold it back.
Once
the tour began, we learned that the Rock of Cashel is absolutely not a
castle…seems like it would be…but not…it’s a Cathedral, duh. Gabe wanted a ghost story; tour-guide-man had
none. Whatever. The church itself was actually really
cool…all jokes aside, seeing a service in this place in the whatever-hundreds
would have been amazing. There was an
IHS symbol carved in the wall, Jesuits represent.
Outside,
Zeke tried to scale the not-castle walls…despite you telling me to fu*k off and
that I wear gay clothes, I still offered to help you climb the wall…you
remember that forever Zeke. Anyway, we
then walked to dinner, and I sat with Jay, Doug, and Amelia. Doug, I give you a hard time, you do ask
terrible questions, but you’re a good man.
Post
dinner bus-ride nap was nice. Now that
we’re all rested from the bus ride, let’s go out, right? I forgot, you’re not Devere Scholars,
drinking on back to back nights is taboo…whatever, Dan represented his city and
rolled with Jay and I out on the town…have fun watching movies in a room of
40-people…not. (Ya, so you got more rest than us, and Josh, you have been
Hangover de-virginized, but you’re only in Ireland with 40 American friends
once folks, figure it out).
On
the town, Dan hit on cougars, Stephen (me) got the drunchies and ate the
equivalent of a Circle-K hamburger, and Jay had some 4 (not 5) star pizza. The bar scene was good, not great, but we did
find a dance club…Senor Cox, the labial dental will make an appearance, I have
been practicing in front of the mirror for 6 years now, I made sure not to peak
freshman year.
But,
the substitute wolf-pack member proved his worth once again…Dan, you’re the
man. This is unofficial, because I have
no recollection of it, but apparently, I went to bed around 1:00am. Mary allegedly rolled in around 1:30am and
banged on our doors, hoping the party would live on. Also allegedly, I woke up, walked into the
main room wearing only white jockeys, and berated the group with a kind “shut
the f*ck up, and stumbled back to bed.
This is all news to me…probably never happened. Mary, you are seated upon a throne of lies…go
to bed.
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