Tuesday, July 3, 2012

An Irish Pub

So we walked into an Irish pub. . . . . . . Or should I say, "two American girls walked into a pub." haha. Okay, on with the story. So Kelly and I walked into an Irish Pub. We had picked the joint out earlier while jogging through a castle, yes, jogging through Dublin Castle. Anyway, the sign out front said they had corned beef, and it was our only full day in Dublin, so I donned my one green shirt and green scarf and we were excited about corned beef and fish and chips. As soon as we entered, we saw smiling faces everywhere. Smiling Irish drunks, singing, drinking, raising their glasses to us! One very drunk gentleman shouted for all to hear: American Girls! I love American Girls! How did he know we were American? Apparently we had it written all over us, although we had yet to speak a word. We smiled politely and walked straight to the empty table at the back of the bar, waiting for my slow old dad yet to enter the bar. A middle aged Irish couple near us smiled warmly, the woman looking at us with extra friendliness and saying hello. The drunk gentleman with culture sense begged us to join him and the four guys at his table, saying there was plenty of room.

Kelly and I laughed, in shock, in hilarity, in enjoyment of the jolly, yet drunken, mood. It was unreal. I said to her, let's just wait and see what reaction they have to my dad when he finally enters the bar. . . . . . . .even more hilarity! He came in his matching khaki shorts and khaki collared top, gray hair, grinning, and taking pictures with his giant canon camera! I recorded the event with my phone, as they sang and as my dad took their pictures, while an attractive waiter informed us of the worst of all news: the cook was gone, they had no food.

No!!!! No corned beef? No fish and chips? What of our traditional meal?? We knew at that hour, the surprisingly small entity of Dublin Ireland was quickly running out of pubs that still served food. Food is exactly what they call it, not entrees or dinner menu, just food. Like the toilet, you don't see signs for a restroom, they call it what it is, and they know what people need. Anyway, that's a side note. The waiter didn't expect us to stay and drink beer on an empty stomach out of politeness. We gathered our belongings and left waiving goodbye and smiling to all present in an uproar fashion, just as we had been greeted as we entered.

Outside, Kelly and I waited for my dad once again. What was taking him so damn long? Minutes passed . . . .and I finally went back in out of worry to meet him at the door. He was thrilled, shaking hands, and they had stopped their singing to ask him where he was from. "Missouri? Sing us a Missouri song!!!" alas, he could think of nothing besides the Mizzou fight song, which thankfully he didn't sing. Haha. Ohhh, the memories. We ended up eating smoked salmon at the touristy Temple Bar, surrounded by non locals but still a huge impressive bar and good atmosphere. Nothing as good as a drunken Irish pub though. Cheers! And I wish we sang at the bars back in the U.S. The way they sing.

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