I Promise You You'll Never Be Lonely

IRLANDIA! Yes, there is something ironic about going to Ireland and coming back wanting to speak in Spanish, but then again it seemed that both Nicaragua and Guatemala were topics mentioned over and over so I guess I was just confused...plus, when I drink, the Spanish just flows. That's a warning to everyone--this post contains a lot about drinking. Turns out they drink in Ireland. Who would've thought?

So I arrived at Dublin International around 6:30 am, the second passenger to be picked up that morning. Turned out we'd be back at the airport four times that day. The hotel shuttle driver quit because we frightened him so much. Anyway, after a brief nap, we fetched up G and then headed out to Dublin on the bus. First stop, food. Second stop, Guinness...turns out that K1 and Richard are meant for each other (thank goodness) as evidenced by this photo taken in Temple Bar. Apparently Temple Bar is an area of Dublin, but we were at Temple Bar in Temple Bar. Enough history. So back to the hotel, where five of us shared a two person room, and K1 gave us sleeping pills. The next day Richard (who hadn't taken any) let us know just how hilarious we'd been while drifting off to sleep.

The next day was very important--heading out to the Guinness...well, it's not the brewery anymore, but it used to be. Sorry I'm such a bad tour guide. It was actually really interesting, learning about the process (they keep their special yeast locked inside a safe) and finally getting an answer to my question--do the Guinness people have anything to do with the Book of World Records? Yes, in fact. The Guinness man introduced it as a way of helping bartenders have a book behind the counter to settle disputes about "largest," "fastest," "longest," and so on. And now you know. The ads were great, but the bar at the top was the best. The views were amazing. After that, we headed back to Temple Bar and then an evening in the "Family Suite," which involved burnt popcorn and a viewing of Music and Lyrics. See, you think we're a bunch of crazy drinkers, but really, we're just boring.

Ah, Saturday...the day of anxiety. K1 pulled out of the parking lot only to lose her mom and her mom's boyfriend immediately. Apparently they decided they needed to say goodbye to the airport one last time (we'd grown so close). So they had to find Ballygally, the village in Northern Ireland where we were headed, all by themselves...while our car (or more accurately, K1) stressed about how lost they were. Saturday evening included a dinner with lots of Richard's family and me being hit in the face with torn coasters. Note to parents: taking 16-year-olds on trips without anyone their age around makes for dangerous outings. Be warned.

Sunday--tourist day. Oh, it's tough moving 18 people around in a group. Patience was thin by the end of the day, but it was really nice to tour Northern Ireland. We visited some ruins (no, no idea what the castle was called, again, not such a good tour guide) and that's the photo at the top of this post. Then we went to Bushmills distillery, where we learned that Bushmills, since 1608, has been producing the best whiskey in the world and you might as well spit in anything else rather than drink it. Next came the Giant's Causeway; I'm still not quite sure why it was called that, but it was extremely cool. No, I don't know the people in that first photo, but I really like the photo of Gretch and Richard contemplating life atop the rocks. In fact, they're shamelessly mocking people, but it sounds better the other way. After the causeway, we headed over to the rope bridge, where most people promptly decided that 3 pounds was too much to pay for a walk across the bridge. Well, I'd been looking forward to the bridge since I saw a photo of it and it was what I really wanted to do, so I was relieved when a few of us hiked out. It was worth it--isn't that a gorgeous view? The night ended with everyone diverting to separate eating establishments, all cars missing the correct motorway, and a discussion on tastebuds and the way that buoys are lit. Please, can someone answer that question?

Where are we...Monday. Monday was devoted to being good bridesmaids and helping K1 do her errands. Then we nixed the plan of going to Belfast to have the bachelorette party, and decided to do manicures and pedicures while watching Sex and the City. I'm still not sure what happened to this plan. I remember card games and Wimbledon, then everyone deciding to go down to the Halfway House for dinner. Rather than get into the ruckus over who was sitting in which cars, I walked...and somehow lost the bride and other bridesmaid. I missed the memo on takeout Chinese, apparently. Having not been enlightened, I ended up being drafted into the position of Best Man, since the best man was decidedly MIA. And I hate to break it to y'all, but those Guinness were not both mine. However, things did get a little crazy when the bachelorette party arrived. Turns out it's a bit tough to do a pub crawl when you have to drive two villages over to GET to a pub, so all 18 members of our party invaded one pub. It's ok though...we're fairly sure that they paid for a two-week vacation to the Costa del Sol for themselves and twelve of their closest relatives with the money we spent that night.

Tuesday. Or Tchewsday as they say it in Ireland. This was my day of personal torment, with nothing to do but attempt to break into an iPod and watch Wimbledon (reruns, mind you, as they were in a rain delay). We headed out to the rehearsal about five, where we proceeded to practice walking UP the aisle about eight times, but never went over the DOWN the aisle part--slightly trickier, as it involved the linking of arms and the choice of an aisle. After that was the rehearsal dinner (but of course) at the golf club, which had a spectacular view. That night we got kicked out of the other house (Gretch, K1 and I stayed at Richard's house, which was just down the road from the house that K1's dad was renting that we all invaded for purposes of seeing how many Guinness cans could fit on the counter) so that K1 could rest up for her wedding...

Which was Wednesday, July 4th. No fireworks for us. Instead a wakeup at 8am...this was the last time I would sleep until what was 2 am CDT, making it 48 hours without sleep. The ceremony was at 2:30, but there was plenty to do before then, including discovering that there was no way for us to straighten our hair. But eventually we made it out of the house. Ireland has some weird customs, which include the bridesmaids going to the church ahead of the bride, the bride walking down the aisle first, and a bunch of people standing around outside the church for no good reason. Hangers-on, like at a celebrity wedding. But the bride made it down the aisle, I didn't trip going off into the room for the secret mission, and they didn't take us out to the castle in the middle of nowhere to kill us all. So in the end, everything turned out splendidly. The evening included many toasts, including one frantically written by the bridesmaids at the last moment, a spot of Irish dancing, a visit to the sheep, some frisbee and badminton in the manor house courtyard, and one last guinness for many of us. Around 1am, the Americans piled on a mini bus to be safely returned to our homes...and for me, a return to real life, since our ride arrived in the driveway promptly at 5am the next morning to see us to Belfast.