A Stone's Throw

practice your aim. you never know when you'll spy 2 birds at once.

Monday, October 10, 2005

food lacking

Monday, October 10 – Dublin

Touchdown. The plane, that is. We arrived early by some 45 minutes, and by some strange bit of timing, I ended up the first person off the plane, which means I was rewarded with a short line at customs. Whatever the legendary friendliness of the Irish, the custom officers are wholly immune. Much like my last trip to the Emerald Isle, I was given a hassle by a early sixties guy with bad hair, worse complexion, and an apparent dislike for being alive. Also, like last time he didn’t believe that I was merely a travelor, that I had some other agenda, that I would somehow wreck his fragile Irish economy with my tourist dollars. What a useless &*%$Ј!

I hopped a bus towards somewhere in Dublin and upon gaining the area known as City Center, I took my leave, striking out on my own across Dublin. I found the River Liffey pretty quick and lovingly sprawled out on a bench that sat on a quaint boardwalk. People must have thought I was another insane American, but who cares – they weren't just trapped on a plane for 6,000 miles.

After a rest, since there was no sunshine, no discernable direction signs, and no street signs as far as the eye could see, I just set off towards what I thought was east. My coin flip worked when my direction choice was affirmed by several young men who claimed to be homeless.
The first hostel I came to was ironically the same one I stayed in years ago. I hated it then and doubted it had changed much, so I took off in search of another. I settled on the Hotel Abraham. For the equivalent of 20 US, I was set for the night, but the catch was that the room would not be ready until 3 that afternoon. It was 10 am.

I found an abandoned couch after much searching and proceeded to get absolutely no sleep at all from the impolite people stomping about like so many elephant impersonators. But time passed in fine fashion as I met two others who were similarly stranded roomless, they were Swedish and friendly. Perhaps synonymous?

The room was finally given me and I celebrated with a shower in a stall the size of an upright coffin that alternated between flesh-dissolving hot and cryogenically cold. Surely I will come to regret all of these haphazard bathing events over time.

And then I napped.


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