Dublin Folly

When I was at university, me and 3 friends went to Dublin for a weekend. There was me, two Asian guys and Jones; a scouser with Irish parents.

Anish, (whose parents are Indian) said as we boarded the plane: "How do they treat dingers over there? (His words, not mine) 'Cause I ain't taking no shit."

Jones replied: "They're the friendliest people in the world. Remember, we're ambassadors for England, so no-one act like a cunt."

"Fair enough" we all thought and settled in to the flight.

When we arrived, we found a hovel of a hostel, only £5 a night in the city centre somewhere, and went out on a bender.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we all got boxed on pills, drink, etc, and managed to lose each other. I eventually managed to find my way back to the hostel at about 3am to see all hell breaking loose. Jones was standing arguing with the manager, who was screaming: “You fucking English, you’ve been coming to my country and pissing on us for centuries!”

Turns out ‘Ambassador Jones’ had come back and pissed on some guy’s bed “because he looks like Richard Branson.”

So we all get turfed out of the hostel and spend the next hour walking round the city trying to find a hotel to let us in. Eventually we do; I went to the wrong room, and slept till 3pm the next day. The cleaning ladies came charging in. “Jesus, we thought you were dead!” one said, before looking round he room, seeing all the empty Bud bottles I had nicked from the hotel bar, and the *ahem* tissue on the floor I had used for a wank I didn’t remember. “This is not use, this is abuse!”

I charged past them, and out onto the street. This was before the time of mobile phones kids, so I was stuck in a city I didn’t know, without any of my mates and absolutely fucked up. Eventually, through a message system that consisted on phoning a mutual friend in England, we managed to arrange to meet in the bar at the train station. By this point, the comedown/hangover/shame had really kicked in. I stood at the bar, shakingly drinking an orange juice and crying. Some bloke standing next to me asked me what the matter was. I pointed at the TV which was playing the video of ‘2 become 1’ by the Spice Girls.

“I’m just looking at that. It’s beautiful.” I told him; deeply and religiously moved. He called me a cunt.

Anyway, my mates eventually turned up, we all had a laugh, and then started it all over again.

Happy days.
(geegee, Fri 16 Dec 2005, 9:14, Reply)