Mad Scientess Jane Expat (nanila) wrote,
Mad Scientess Jane Expat
nanila

Day 13: Gleann

Becca, Kegan and Cat at Roarty's pub
We wake to driving rain the next morning. We had planned to take a ferry around the cliffs of Slieve League, but it was fairly obvious that it wouldn't be running that day. Even if it were, we wouldn't be able to see ten feet beyond our noses. I think we're all bit wrecked anyway and could use a day off. We spend our day eating, reading and napping before putting on our coats to brave the downpour to walk to Roarty's pub. We'd ended up there the previous night after learning that Becca and Kegan's bartender friend at Teach Biddy's was on holiday in Portugal. Apparently, someone had recognized us when we were walking to the pub. He called the bar to ask for "Tegan" to tell us to go to Roarty's and meet the local friends they'd made during their five-week course last year.

The previous night was pretty uneventful, as Becca and Kegan had a lot of catching up to do. (More than one of them confused me with her when we walked up, which amused us greatly.) This night, though, turns out to be something akin to watching a slow-motion train wreck. With the exception of Cat, Becca and Kegan's friend who's just returned from the Letterkenny music festival, everyone seems to be both emotionally broken and absolutely blotto.
There's the obviously underage and very drunk girl who is, shall we say, underdressed for the weather. She behaves loudly and badly and, at first anyway, clearly resents having a bunch of Americans come in to steal her thunder. There's the really drunk dude I held out of the street so he wouldn't fall down into it and get run over while vomiting. (Blame my bleeding hippie heart for caring, okay?) He promptly forgets all about that and proceeds to try and hit on me while simultaneously being unable to remember my name. (Class!) There's the Canadian girl, Sarah, who's also on holiday, and who becomes deeply confessional to me just before we left. There's the very drunk man I have to hold in his chair at arm's length, partly to keep him from touching me inappropriately, partly to keep him from punching someone else and partly to keep me from decking him. I feel like I'm disciplining a dog. "Fucking stay there. No, stay. No, STAY!" (I'd probably be kinder to a dog.)

All the drama in the world plays out on small-town stages.
Me, Becca and Sarah at Roarty's pub
Tags: ireland, photo, travel
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