Dear Aer Lingus, Fuck You.
So this past weekend, we went to Dublin for the St. Patty’s Day Weekend Festival. Except there was no festival. But it was fun anyways. Apparently, St. Patty’s festivities are much crazier in the states, aka Americans like to use it as an excuse to drink and the Irish don’t need one. People we talked to also said the actual day of St. Patty’s was much much crazier, but I guess I’ll never know.
Thursday night we flew in and decided to go find a bar. The first pub we encountered had just stopped serving drinks (wtf it was like 12) so the bouncer told us to try one down the street. I consulted my MTV Europe Guidebook like any American teenager looking for a good time, and we ended up at a gay dance club. Again wtf. They definitely were like why the fuck are you wanting to get into a gay bar? So we said fuck this and went to the one the bouncer suggested, which ended up being MY FAVORITE IRISH BAR. Called The Globe, where they played sweet indie music, I found my Irish lover for the night, and had my first pint of Guinness and loved it. Me and Vicky started talking to this Irish guy and he bought us multiple drinks of whiskey and coke and I ended up incoherent and meeting him in the bathroom for a steamy makeout sesh and then he got pissed that I wasn’t coming home with him but I didn’t care because I made out with an Irish man. Check that off the list, bitches. Maybe not as good as Jesus, but that accent…
Saturday we woke up and went to the first bar we saw to have a beer. Yes, it was 12pm and yes we were the first customers. The bar was called Fitzsimmons and was in an area of Dublin called Temple Bar which is where all the touristy bars and pubs are and is a fucking shit show by 10pm. After getting nice and tipsy from a couple rounds of kings, we headed to teh Guinness Factory where we “learned” about how to make Guinness. Too confusing when not 100 percent sober. There we also got a free pint and I learned how to pour my own. Went to the Sky Gravity Bar at the top to take in a view of Dublin. After, we went to eat, and then me and Vicky decided to walk around the city while the rest of the group slept.
That night we went back to Fitzsimmons and it was CRAZY. The bar has five, count it five, floors of debauchery. Oh, forgot to add that we were wearing ridiculous costumes: Amanda had a green wig, me and Lizzy had green suspenders and green hats, which gave us alot of attention. I cant tell you how many times some idiot Irishman grabbed my hat while i was walking through the bar and tried to steal it/start a conversation with me about it. “Oi, nice hat” “Thanks” what else am I supposed to say? How is that a decent conversation starter? Be fucking original at least, jesus. Me and EJ did some Irish car bombs, absolutley fucking delicious, I am addicted. Tastes just like chocolate milk. mmmm. Anyways, the night was ehh, ok. The Irish guys we talked to were kind of weirded out by our outfits and our enthusiasm for St. Pattys. Only Americans take it so far, figures.
Saturday we walked around and saw St. Stephens Green, a beautiful park, Trinity College, where I ran into courtney from vanderbilt, what are the fucking odds? Saw St. Patrick;s Cathedral, bought a claddough ring, stole a guinness glass (i hope all this glassware makes it back home), and then we were off the the airport. Heres where the craziness starts.
As we were waiting for the bus, it was 2:05. Our flight was at 4pm. We couldn’t decide to take a taxi or a bus, but we had faith in the dublin city bus system. That was our first mistake. We did not arrive at the airport until 3:20. And then, the bus driver would not open the door for us until pulling up to the curb, he was a real jackass, and we had to wait for five min while he waited to pull in. We booked it to the check in, and the Aer Lingus ladies were like, “Sorry, you’re too late to check in, you have to check in 45 minutes before the flight” We were like, that was five minutes ago and this is what she said
“It was actually seven minutes ago”
Seriously? FUCK YOU. We were like can you not put us on another flight? No, and no refund either. So basically, fuck my life.
I have never missed a flight. I have NEVER missed a flight. Needless to say, I was freaking out. we went to find a flight to madrid, there were limited options and all were 200 euros or more. Then we tried to decide if we wanted to go somewhere else and party, we considered london, paris, nach (we dont even know where that is), edinburgh, the list goes on. They were all over 200 euros. Let me just add that I hadnt taken a shower since thursday, i was dirty, tired, and pissed off. Then, we talked to Iberia, who said they had a flight in a couple hours to madrid for 90 euros, but we would have to wait to see if we could get on. Meanwhile, we chilled at McDonalds thinking of ways we could get some money, heres what we came up with:
dress up in green and sing a song about how aerlingus fucked us in the ass and we needed money home
Sadly, we did not get a chance to make this happen. But we did make it home on the Iberia flight, we were lucky as fuck because there was only one more open seat on that fucking plane. Who flies from Dublin to Madrid on a random Saturday? I dont understand. But, that is the full tale of my adventures in Dublin. I am debating whether or not to tell my parents I missed my flight or not…But Im going to have to start selling myself on the streets to pay for shit.
This week: art midterm tomorrow, fuck. we get a four day weekend though, which is great and we are thinking about going to the fallas of valencia where they burn papier mache statues and have crazy fireworks.
peace out
7.5 weeks.
