Ireland - Day 2 (Friday 3/31/2006)

So, 4 AM, car still there. 8 AM, car GONE. Not clamped, GONE! This sucks, but I can’t really say I didn’t expect it. And I can’t even say that it wasn't entirely my fault. Nothing left to do but spend my entire morning making it right, so I head back to the hotel, hungover like you wouldn’t believe, where I try to inform the two cute, but foreign, hotel employees about my plight.

They tried SO hard to help me, but they seemed to think I wanted a new rental car, not that I wanted to, no, needed to, find my OLD rental car. Looks like I’m on my own on this one. I finally figure out how to get the phones working, so I call my travel reservations (Expedia on this one, I think, or Travelocity) to get the number for the rental car agency, since the information I had was in my damn car. I finally get THAT number, so I call it and inform them of my situation. They SAY they’re going to help me, but to this day I haven’t heard back from them.

Nothing left to do but call 999 (their equivalent of 911) and ask for the local Garda (their equivalent of police). I know it’s not a real emergency, and I feel bad for doing it, but they don’t bat an eyelash at this, and the woman is very helpful. Within a few minutes she calls me back, tells me my car has been clamped, towed, AND clamped again! She gives me the location, the cost (80 Euros), and the number of the clamping agency. Within a few more minutes I’ve called the clamping agency, made my payment (ouch), and began my journey to find my car.

A 10-minute walk later and I’m at my car, without a clamp, and without 80 Euros in my bank account, but it’s good to have that behind me. Time to find valid parking. I make my way back to the parking garage recommended by my hotel, and it is available AND 24-hour, so I think I’m in the clear. I see a sign that says 8 Euro overnight special, so that’s even better. I grab my ticket, park my car, and make my way back out into the light of day. Nothing like wasting an entire morning fixing a dumb mistake, while at the same time trying to rid myself of a wicked hangover. Why is it that you still pee, even when you’re dehydrated? I NEED that water! Luck of the Irish, where are you?

Finally I’m able to begin my day, so I walk down to O’Connell Street and wait for my tour bus to arrive. I booked one of those “hop on, hop off” bus tours around Dublin. A few minutes (okay, several minutes) later I hop on the bus and head up and around O’Connell Street. I hop off at the top end, amidst a light drizzle, and snap a few photos before waiting for the next bus and jumping back on.

From there I head further into town and hop off to check out the Book of Kells. This is some book. I recommend you find out for yourself. I grabbed another bus and hit a few more sights on the tour. I visited the Guinness Factory. Well, I visited the gift shop, at least. I didn’t have the time, or the inclination, to take the tour since I missed out on the morning. I also didn’t take the tour of the Gaol, but I DID get to experience my Guinness bag breaking and spilling its contents out all over the sidewalk. THAT was lovely. Still no Irish Luck. That behind me, I finished the tour and decided to walk for a bit, AFTER dropping off my gear.

Seems the luck wouldn’t be returning today. Everywhere I went I was prevented from seeing much. The Christ Church Cathedral: wedding. Dublin Castle: Teacher’s Awards. Saint Patrick’s Cathedral: Closed. Statue of Molly Malone: Raining (not to mention I got lost on the way there, even WITH my map).

I head back down Fleet Street, to the Temple Bar District, where I grab some Guinness and some grub. I have this dish, called Coddle, that is bacon-wrapped sausage in a cream sauce with carrots and celery. It’s quite good. And the Guinness was good, too. But, still, everywhere I go there don’t seem to be any Irish workers. Where do the Irish work? Everyone seems to be either French, or Slavic of some sort. Weird. I keep hearing my old boss quoting a line from “Pulp Fiction” in my head: English, Mother F*cker, Do You Speak It!?”

Anyway, I leave the bar and find myself in a small crowd. What’s going on? Well, there is this TOTALLY wrecked bloke outside the bar, being helped by his friends. I mean, this guy is out of it: can’t stand, can’t open his eyes, drooling on himself. These people need to call an ambulance, which is exactly what this 8-year old girl is yelling at them. I hope they take her advice.
I spend the rest of the early evening walking around the area taking some photos, but my heart just isn’t in it so, after awhile, I head back to the hotel and go to bed. Maybe tomorrow, when I leave Dublin behind me, my luck will improve. We’ll see…