Good Friends ... Good Times

The days pass in a blur. There is so much to get done at work before I leave. Couple that  with a stream of visitors at home and I am left exhausted. I don’t have time to pack and G and Cal take care of it for me. Ah, the small pleasures of life – to come home late and find your bag already packed. I am flying Air France for the first time and a number of people scare me about their pathetic service. My fears are unwarranted as the flight turns out to be pretty good. We have two male stewards to serve us and I watch as they work their charm on the passengers. I am beginning to realize why French men are so popular with the women. I have a four hour layover in Paris and I spend a considerable amount of that in a bus getting to my terminal. We are packed six deep in the bus and there is barely room to stand. It’s not very comfortable having four grown men pressing on you from all sides but I put on my poker face and get through it.

I walk through the airport and am surprised that the entire terminal has just one bar and you have to stand in line to get a drink. It’s a long line and I pass. I don’t need a drink that bad and it’s 9 in the morning anyway. I always thought that Paris had a lot of glamor but there is nothing glamorous about the airport at least. The only good thing about this is that I can now truthfully say that I have been in Paris. I mention this to JD and he says so what, hasn’t everyone?

 It’s time to board at last and we are herded into another bus. The bus journey takes forever and I am beginning to wonder if they are planning to drive us to Dublin when we arrive at a little plane. A short flight but the seats are super small and super uncomfortable. I look out the window and watch the ground slip away from me as the plane gains height. Higher and higher we fly until everything below is a blur and we seem to be suspended in mid air. I know we are getting somewhere and pretty fast at that, but there is no visual indication of this. This is what it must seem like to be top management, I think. You are right on top and so far away from the little people that you don’t really care if they live or die. But you’re going somewhere in the meantime.

Dublin is sunny and warm; I seem to have brought the good weather with me - again! It’s Halloween here and all the people are dressed up. We go to the Ginger Man for a pint and a quick bite and then end up at Kennedy’s because they have a big screen TV. All my old buddies are there with a couple of new ones added in. Nobody looks anyone else in the eye, but that is probably because their eyes are glued to the tube above them. Australia beats Ireland narrowly and that is a big disappointment. There is too much sorrow and it needs to be drowned. We are up to the task.

Aimen has grown a pointy beard. The secret to a long beard, he says, is to stroke it often. The more he strokes it, the longer it grows. From the looks of his beard, it looks like he likes to stroke himself. Keep stroking, Aimen, if that’s what makes you happy. Back where I come from, we have a different name for it, but whatever dude.

The next stop is the No Name Bar which is actually a house converted into a tavern. It has thumping music and Spanish women. We lose a part of our group (who I cannot name for obvious reasons) who desert us in favor of going dancing with the Spaniards. We carry on and end up in Ray’s brother’s house. It’s quite a party and it looks like it’s been on for a while judging by the number of empties on the living room table. It’s a disaster waiting to happen and sure enough the brother over steps and crashes into the table. The result is chaos. Broken bottles everywhere and thankfully the little candle on the table goes out without causing too much damage. The bro is not finished for the night though. He goes downstairs and attempts to climb on to the 5^th floor balcony from the outside. The drunker he gets the more confidence he gains in his climbing skills. No matter that he cannot stand straight; climbing is different. Finally Katie convinces him that taking the stairs is climbing too. He is not happy and he storms back inside. Well, almost storms back inside because he doesn’t see the door in the way and slams right into it.

The party continues undeterred. I walk to the bathroom and surprise the couple inside. Apparently, the bro is getting the cut under his eye attended to. It seems to me that the attention that he is getting is concentrated well below his eye. I refrain from asking which eye they were referring to. Ray is too much in a hurry to wait for them to finish and heads out to the balcony. I follow him and point out a couple of potted plants as likely candidates for his use but like his brother, he cannot curb his climbing instincts. He hops on the wall and waters the plants five stories below. I just hope nobody else was trying to climb up the wall at that moment. They would have been treated to some acid rain!

We wind down finally and decide to call it a night. The next day sees more of the same. This is the only place in the whole world where I am honored as a cook and it instills a sense of recklessness in me. A dash of this and a splash of that, another glass of Jameson and I forget what we set out to make in the first place.  We cook two kinds of chicken, simply because two is better than one. It’s Halloween and there are kids in scary costumes knocking on the door. Candy is doled out generously and the monsters leave.

The days pass so quickly and it is time to leave. There is a heightened sense of security at the airport and I am grilled for a while before they decide that I am harmless. I finally get the required stamps on my passport and I am off to the United States. All in all a good trip. Got a lot done at work, good friends, good times. Au Revoir Dublin, until we meet again.