“A Drink At The Pub”

During the day on Friday I didn’t do much. Just recouped, comfortable that I had at least one job offer that I was happy with, and waited to see if more came in. They didn’t, so I just spent the morning and afternoon watching movies, writing, and cruising the Internet. For the evening I had been invited out for a drink at the pub with a group of guys that Mariah and I had met on our trip out last March.

We headed down to the pub at around 7pm. It was right at one of the LUAS stops, so it was just a quick ride to get there (I have yet to need to get to some place NOT on the LUAS, but eventually I will need to learn the bus system, or expect to spend a good deal on Taxis). There ended up being six of us in total – myself, four guys, and one guy’s girlfriend – and we just sat around shooting the s*** as it were. In Ireland, this is called crack (no…no drugs involved). A place that is known for good conversation is said to have “good crack”. To say “What’s the crack?” is to say, “How’s it going?” or, “What’s the good word?” in the US. Suffice it to say, there was plenty of good crack to go around.

Now, in Ireland “a drink” is never a drink. It is usually more closely translated to “as many drinks as it takes us to close down the pub.” I knew this, but my brain had not yet fully adjusted to my Irish surroundings, so I was still thinking a few hours at the pub…

I checked the time at about 12:20am (the last LUAS runs at about 12:30am) when I thought things seemed to be slowing down. A few of the guys wandered off here and there and I waited at the table with a few others for someone to indicate it was time to head out. I had taken the LUAS down with one of the guys and, since we would be stuck with a Taxi now, I figured we might as well split it, so I stuck around. (Anyone who knows me, knows that I can really only handle so much chit-chat in one place, especially when everyone around is hammered, but I managed to eek out a bit more conversation and stuck around). Next thing I know, those few blokes that wandered off had actually found their way to another bar in the pub and were taking shots…

The hours carried on and the pub stayed open, which was also not something I had expected. Most Irish pubs shut down at 12:30am (they have specific rules for different kinds of liqueur and food licenses) and then you move on to a club nearby (usually a good time for me to take my leave) that stays open until 3:00am or so…and then you move on the chipper (AKA fast food joint) for a late night bite to eat. In this case, the pub we were in had some kind of late night license, so there was no need to leave.

We headed out at about 2:00am and caught a Taxi back home. I was happy to have one of the guys along with me to give the Taxi man directions. I could have told him where I wanted to go, even including a handful of the adjacent streets, but because Dublin streets are so complicated, you practically need to tell the driver exactly what turns to make to get you to your destination and I wouldn’t have been able to pull that off.

I was asleep by about 2:30am.

It was a good night, despite being later than I had originally planned. I am not complaining here, because this is just how it works in Ireland, but in my defense, as a sober participant I tend to get a little bored once the intoxication level gets to a certain point. And before any of you monkeys (you know who you are) start posting a slew of comments that read, “I have a solution for you…” I’m not planning on taking up the drink, despite the inevitable years of peer pressure (it couldn’t be much worse than high school…). I will just have to work on building up a higher tolerance for putting up with drunks.