Week 2 is proving to be an exercise in how many times can you get the wheels to fall off in a week… but I am in the Emerald Isle, so let’s just blame the leprechauns!
Anywhere I have been in the world, traditional Irish bars appear to have stairs. There are a lot of pubs in Ireland, which equates to a lot of steps. This is not good when you know that you will be rolling out of said pubs in the wee hours of the morn. And if they don’t catch you out, the stiletto tripping cobbled roads will.
I actually sat down at a table with an Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman. All I could say was “Is this a joke?”
Popcorn is my new hangover treat.
I’m am still grateful that good friends are located all around the globe. The kindness of friends outweighs all the pints and bubbles I have drunk this week.
I feel the same way about the Avoca store as I do Anthropologie in New York, pure love.
Leprechauns don’t have pots of gold, they’re too busy trying to dip into yours.
Starting the night with champagne helps make good stories to come.
I love having a good bit of craic.
Talking too much while driving will make you miss the turn off and end up in Moira. Moira is a village, not a lady.
The Irish are proud of their sporting prowess. During the taxi ride out for drinks, a local man mentioned that “Some Irish guy went to the Paralympics… he was just Irish”.
Irish Car Bombs should be taken very seriously. Half a pint of Guinness with a shot glass of Baileys and whiskey dropped in and straight down the hatch should not mean that you have another one or three soon after simply because you’re celebrating at an Irish wedding. Today I’m leaving with the worst hangover I have ever experienced.
50,000 Americans will travel to Dublin to watch college football.
50,000 Ireland souvenir t-shirts, caps and velour track suits were purchased and worn in Dublin that same day.
And once again, self-control still hasn’t been located, any form of it has been misplaced at the bottom of an empty pint glass. I just keep drinking.