Forgettable Moments

Ok - back to Ireland. There were many unforgettable moments and memories during our weeklong trip of the Emerald Isle. Our expectations were high, and I can say that for the most part, the people and places of Ireland far surpassed what we expected - it was truly one of the best life experiences I've had in my 28 years. The local Irish people were just as friendly and welcoming as we expected - and we will not soon forget them. There were, however, a few conversations that were not so pleasant - quite forgettable in my opinion - and both of them were with Americans.


While waiting for our plane at the Dulles airport - not quite on Ireland soil yet, but definitely in vacation mode - we had a conversation with a woman I will refer to as "Chatty Cathy." My other travel companions may not remember nor think much of the Chatty Cathy incident, but I was quite perturbed. As we were waiting for our flight to Dublin at the Washington Dulles airport, Rebecca started quizzing us about the road signs in Ireland from the Rick Steves travel book. Enjoying our time together while in competition for sign knowledge supremacy, a woman sitting beside us quipped something about Ireland that got our attention. A brief and friendly conversation followed and we learned that they too were headed to Limerick to see their daughter who is attending the same college as Dave was. Ever the friendly ones, my Mom and Dad continued to respond to her questions cordially. I, on the other hand, would have rather continued to selfishly keep our circle of activity with fewer distractions from our fellow tourists, as I had just gotten used to being near my parents for the first time in months. It wouldn't have been an issue normally - I like making new friends and I have no problem chatting it up with strangers. What made this instance different was that this woman wouldn't shut up and seemed to lack a little thing I like to call "social tact." We weren't five minutes into meeting them that she was asking us what our travel agenda was and whether or not she could have my brothers' email address and phone number for her and her family to contact us. Luckily, my brother did not have a phone number and my Mom smartly deflected the email question. I really didn't think it was cool to be contact info swapping my brother's info with these people. I know I wouldn't want some random family or their daughter calling me up and being like, "oh hey, you don't know me, but our parents met at the airport..." Maybe I'm just being a grouch here, but she seemed a little too nosy and tactless for my tastes.


Then there was the now infamous interaction in Gus O'Connors pub in Doolin with the gentlemen from the Midwest. Their New Balance shoes alerted us that they were from the U.S.A. (Which, according to my brother, is how Irish people can tell who is American and who's not.) We were fortunate enough to avoid this distinction but instead were noted to be tourists just by glancing at my poor Dad who was quickly relegated to carrying all of my Mom's camera gear everywhere we went. Anyways, back to the low point of the entire trip - the conversation from hell. It's bad enough having this conversation in America, so to have it occur while in vacation mode when having the best time of your life is downright cruel.

It was a Sunday night, and we were settling into our spots for another evening of traditional Irish music and Guiness drinking. Sporting New Balance shoes and a Chicago Bears stocking hat we scanned to spot the ultimate gut punch - the Bears hat dude was in the company of Brett Favre Green Bay Packer jersey wearing guy! Our purple pride swelled in our hearts and we were suddenly transported into another dimension - Minnesota Viking territory. My Dad, Dave and I couldn't help but shake our heads in disgust. Out of all the people we would run into in Ireland, it had to be this guy. Like any good fan, the first instinct is to quickly evaluate how your team had matched up against the despised Packers - and the result was "not well." The very last game against them resulted in a 34-0 contest in their favor. If we decided to show our hand to him, it was not going to be fun - no, it would either end in a bar room brawl or...no, that's about right - there was only one way it would end. The solution? Avoid him at all costs - there was no winning this, so save your dignity. That was the plan that Dave and I had silently agreed upon - we were not going to engage with him - we were going to abide by the quote: "if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all." Yes, we would lick our wounds and keep our tempers in tact by not giving this Cheesehead a chance. Then, before we knew it he was walking towards us and Dad was blurting out "VIKINGS RULE!" I kid you not, the old man just could not contain himself - he had unwittingly engaged us in a battle we knew was unwinnable.

As expected, this guy was unbearable. He quickly jumped all over my Dad - snidely laughing and tossing his comment aside before launching into his Brett Favre is God and Packer bandwagon schpiel faster than you can say Lambeau Field. My temper flared and my purple pride flashed lightning hot, but I had nothing to dish out this time - nothing to save face - our Vikings had just sustained the hardest of defeats at the hands of the Packers, the only insult I could manage was that they had dealt a cheap shot to our new prized player, Adrian Peterson. To describe his arrogance and lack of proper ettiquette (we just met him, it wasn't like he was a long-time friend) in speaking to us - ugh - it was downright terrible. He left us momentarily, to which Dave and I had 30 seconds to look at my Dad in disbelief before he returned and was apologizing - insincerely - for his words. I properly ignored him and let Dad do the talking, for he was afterall, the reason for him being around us in the first place. About the only redemption we had was when my Dad asked him "So, what do you do?" He paused and then responded awkwardly with nothing close to a decent response. Basically, it was deemed that he was at best "in between jobs" but most likely "a bum" whose only occupation was following the dream Packer football season and contributing nothing else to society but for advertising american football in Ireland. Harsh yes, but I don't think we could have crossed paths with anyone more agonizing. Yes, it was truly the low point of the week. He was ridiculously obnoxious and annoying - nuff said.

Aside from these interactions, our week was pain free. Well, pain free until we reached the Aran Islands bike adventure the next day...

To be continued!