Dirty Old (Wet) Town

19AUG
Ugh, Dublin. Why is this place always such a hassle? The day started off shakily. After forcing myself awake after little to no sleep I finished packing and cleaned a bit of my empty room. I went to the shop for the last time and bought a coke and some digestives (mmmm, I’ll miss you, milk chocolate digestives!) and then drug a friend down to the pub to buy a fleece and see our bartender. Said bartender was still asleep, so we kicked around with his dad until the fleece deal was solved. Never actually got to say goodbye to the dude, dammit. Bartender’s Dad drove us back to the house, thinking we had at least twenty minutes before the bus left. In the driveway frantic people greeted us. “The bus leaves in ONE MINUTE!” they screamed. So we exchanged a quick hug and kiss with our driver and flew out the door, grabbed our bags and sprinted down the street. It was all rather amusing for those already on the bus, I’m sure. “Clumsy ass Americans, can’t even catch a bus on time that leaves RIGHT NEXT TO THEIR HOUSE!” (I should note that I was the only American catching the bus, the rest were Canadian. So. Dunno where I was going with that.)
I’ve been to Westport before, so I thought I knew where to get off and how to get to the train station, but after hauling all of my crap all the way the hell out of town, I see the bus pass me and then turn into the station. So I could’ve just stayed on and been dropped off at the front door. I got there in the nick of time, as the tickets to Dublin were rapidly selling out. A lot of people are heading to Dublin to watch the rematch of the Mayo semi-final football (gaelic!) match, so things were getting hectic.
Arriving in Dublin was a bit of culture shock. I’ve seen about two traffic lights in the past six weeks and then suddenly I’m dumped into four-lane roads and blinking things and horns honking. There are people everywhere and I don’t recognize them! There are Garda sirens, speeding ambulances and no tractors. No sheep either! Instead of bog, there’s this stuff they call “asphalt,” and “concrete.” It’s all very weird, I tell ya. At least it was pouring. I’m quite familiar with that.
I sat on the longest city bus ride ever and was convinced we weren’t going to make it without either dying a horrible firey death, or causing someone else to. The man sitting with me more than once grabbed the seat in front of him in preparation for impact. There was much honking.
The ATM near the door of the airport was broken, so of course there was a line at the other one. I caught a cab after another wait in line and arrived at my hotel. They couldn’t find my booking. Anywhere. I’m nearing panic, as there is no way in hell I’m going to find another place to stay, when they tell me they’ll just make another reservation for me. So I may get to pay for this privilege twice! Woohooo!
At least the soccer started today. At the same time, I’m kinda sad, as I just discovered that I really really like Gaelic football and I’m going to be flying home while Mayo is playing tomorrow. Boo! I suppose there’s no way on earth I’ll get to watch any of those matches, even with 50000 useless cable channels.