The Trip to Ireland
Greetings all:
Henceforth begins the narrative of my trip to Ireland, which was specifically requested by my closest friends, but which will be inflicted on people who barely know me or maybe don't even like me very much, but who don't want to hurt my feelings by telling me so, and who should therefore feel free to skip the words altogether and just look at the pictures. Or even skip the pictures too, and then send me an email along the lines of “enjoyed your Ireland scrapbook — let's have lunch sometime.”
Ok, down to it: As most of you know, I left for Ireland on Monday, February 16th with Thierry, who you may know as “That Boy on Crutches”.
 Thierry |
Our intention was to cross the Atlantic as cheaply as possible without winning tickets in a card game, like that guy did in that movie where the big boat sunk, because we all know that that didn't work out very well for him, did it? Except that he did get to see Kate Winslet naked, which Thierry thought would be a nice perk, but I didn't think it would be worth the drowning.
So, we booked a circuitous itinerary that took us from Nashville to Chicago to Atlanta (yes) to Dublin. We left on Monday morning and arrived at about the same time Tuesday morning (Dublin is 6 hours behind Nashville — so it was actually only an 18-hour commute.)
Everything went more or less smoothly for the trip over, except for a snow scare in Tullahoma that threatened to strand Thierry down there on the morning we were to leave, and a close shave in Atlanta, due to our outbound flight from Chicago being delayed. Thierry can really make very good headway on the crutches when pressed, but I'm afraid it is difficult to stop quickly for small children or old men who meander into his path.
Our plane for the flight from Atlanta to Dublin had some cool modern amusements that I hadn't seen before, and I was glad to have them (although I made more use on them on the flight back, as I mostly slept on the way over). There was a video touch screen on the back of every seat, and you could play games, listen to music, watch movies (earphones provided), check the plane's current position on the route, and even get a feed from a camera mounted on the exterior of the plane, aimed at the ground (or ocean, as the case may be). Nice for those of us who didn't have window seats. As I said, though, it was a night flight, so we tried to sleep as much as possible. I got in a few hours of good, deep sleep, after the loud lady in the row behind us had finally shut up. She was one of those people who, though she is having a casual conversation with a person beside her, pitches her voice as if she's addressing a restless audience of grade-school children in a loud auditorium — “Everyone! Listen up!” Thankfully, she was decidedly Irish, so I didn't have to be embarrassed on behalf of my countrymen, who I'm told are notoriously loud-of-voice compared to Europeans. But not the European in the row behind me...
Anyway, we arrived in Dublin and breezed through customs without even stopping. Apparently, the trick is to choose the right hallway to exit the airport. If you walk down the “green” hallway: nothing to declare, no heroin, no poultry; you won't actually have to stop for inspection. You'll just walk by a couple of sleepy-looking customs agents who will narrow their eyes suspiciously, but will ultimately opt not to move from their comfortable slouch against the wall. It was quite refreshing after the orange-alert American airports, where Thierry is inevitably made to surrender his crutches and limp through the metal detector.
Picking up the car was similarly casual. “You want to add a second driver? Sure! This guy with the orthopaedic boot? No problem!”
So, we get our car, a sweet and sassy little Nissan Micra. A tinier car than I have ever seen that did not have clowns pouring out of it. We had upgraded to a four-door, so I was continually marveling that this was NOT the smallest car we could have had.
I haven't driven a stickshift in a long time (automatics over there will cost you about €200 more per week) and I've never been a huge fan of shifting gears, even when I can do it with my right hand. My biggest worry pre-trip was that I would be a terrible driver and that driving would be very stressful. I was right on both counts, though the stress was far outweighed by the fun and adventure of it all.
And the first adventure was just getting the car out of the parking lot. I drove first and had no idea until Thierry later drove just how terrifying it is to be a passenger. The roads are extremely narrow, the natives drive horrendously fast, and it's Alice-Down-The-Well mirror-image of driving in the States.
