I’ve escaped! Yesterday, before my flight and after waking up around 2 a.m. and not being able to get back to sleep, I got a head start on my jetlag battle. It lead to a full day of pain upon think attempts, but I think I’ve beaten this time zone war in a single day! It’s noon in Ireland, 6 a.m. in Chitown and my body is not in a cold, lifeless heap on the tile. Winning!
But…you know… it may be too early to tell. Let’s go with I’m winning for now, though!
I’m on a long layover in Shannon, Ireland on my way to London, where I will celebrate the birthday of a wild Welsh gent, in what I can only assume will leave me and parts of the world scarred and broken forever, but in the best ways… yeah.
Btw, if I forget to mention, Jesus fucking Christ, these Irish women are making Me blush with their torrents of profanity. I love Ireland.
One thing I didn’t love, and which you didn’t love either (because I’m pretending you are here, of course) is when we witnessed one of the cruelest, vilest offenses the world has ever known. I’d heard a rumor of it, but could barely believe it was true… Baggy, multi-colored pajama pants are now in style in Ireland for women… to wear In Public.
“What the fuck.”
That’s what I said to you when we saw it. Then you gave me a look back that just silently said, “what the fuuuuuck?” And then I made this face as a way to purge myself of the horror and confusion within me:
Mostly the confusion.
Ireland, we all know you are home to the most beautiful women in the world. Got it. Check. But you really don’t need to be so kind to give every other population the upper hand. You’ve gone too far.
On the upside, your Guinness, chowder and soda bread are still “grand”!
And, bonus: your cider taps have friggen videos on them.
I’m about to board for London. I will see you on the flip side of this trip, Ireland, in a couple weeks. I expect to see some wardrobe improvements. But, please don’t run out of beer.