Off to Ireland!
6/17/2008 3:47 PM
I recall my first exposure to Ireland should come as no surprise was in the 80’s television commercial for Irish Spring soap. The colors of Ireland so vibrant, the people so clean friendly…the soap was so good they’d cut right into it with a giant buck knife! And the red haired ladies?…”Aye, they like it too.” From there flash forward a few years to watching a video for U2, “Under a blood red sky” where I heard the immortal stoner words “I hear its kind of rainy in Ireland so I hope they can relate”…Let’s read that again…

“I hear... it’s kind of rainy in Ireland...so...I hope they can relate”.

As if it was written by Oscar Wilde. So you can see why after so many years I have been captivated by the Emerald Isle.

After several years of hemming and hawing and general lolly gagging found me and current best friend and former Bubble Machine morning co-host, Norb, planning and soon to depart to Ireland.

So dear readers…
”admit me…Chorus to this history,
Who…prologue-like…your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear…Kindly to judge,
OUR PLAY!”

So what? I ripped off Shakespeare and Derek Jacobi’s delivery in the intro? This place could use the class.

From “Erin Go Bragh” to Pull over the car.

My heart races. After months of planning and hours of company time emailing each other “The Trip” is happening. The spring hair wisps through my hair, a smile as I adjust the volume of the radio and bring U2 to OSHA violating levels and some Illinois jackhole pushing me from behind. I’ll just Unleash the power of the Alero to get around this truck and let him past me to …Dammit, police car! And of course he’s coming out. I am in Kenosha and the run for the border is a thought or perhaps the Smokey and the Bandit “hide behind the truck” maneuver all seem an option if be it a weak one. Time for me to do what I do…make excuses and grovel. He goes for none of it and minutes later I am driving away already 200 bucks in the hole. At least I can add Kenosha to the growing list of places I have been pulled over in.

After meeting Norb we proceed to downtown Chicago for reasons that will soon come clear. While killing some time we stop for a coffee and to people watch. If people watching and commenting were sport we’d be the Williams sisters. One of the first people we observe is a man in a rumpled suit who wears a facial expression of both fear and mischievous thrill

In taking a page in our book of “never being able to do things easy”. My traveling companion is taking his citizenship test today. We have to go to his USA Quiz before hand. There is nothing like a bit of down home bureaucracy to make glad to be shaking free of the States. We enter the most non descript government facility in America. This place is so white bread it makes me look like James Brown by comparison. We are asked by the kindly guard to remove every item in our possession and fold them into little plastic bags and place them on the conveyor belt. This includes my belt. I am now in danger of a indecent exposure charge. With the last vestiges of pride we emerge to the other side and spend the next ten minutes putting our dangerous belts and papers away. We round the corner…I am holding my cell phone “NO CELL PHONES” I am barked at by a security guard who could get a second job as a globe. “Uh…I was just holding it, not calling any-…”. “NO CELL PHONES!” I have to admit in a world of doubt. This man knew what his place was. We soon found ourselves in the waiting room with a desk “wo-manned” by and African American lady with an impressive hairstyle. She informs us where to wait and “Norb asks if they are running on time” she nearly pats his head with such and amusing question. “No…That only happens on the first appointment.” Not a good sign. The room is a nightmare of process development. I begin to verbally analyze what’s wrong…Poor Norb is just trying to remember the 4th amendment. “There are 4? Huh?!”. Being born in the friendly confines of these United States gives the civically ignorant like me a fighting chance. I agree out of the 100 questions I’d be lucky to clear 85. They call his name and he’s off. They describe his appointment could last 2 hours. I finished my SAT’s in less time and considering how I did on this its not a good thing to finish early. The clock ticks. In about 18 minutes he’s emerged after…3 questions?! One was who the Vice President is?! He could have studied CNN that morning and passed the test. Bah…what do I care? Welcome to the country you can now officially complain about the government and get your rights walked over but NOW as an American citizen! Proceed to the front of the line we’ll let you pick out the next country we invade.

We are both raring to go. But as with any moving engine we need proper lubrication we find an outer circle of hell known as “the airport bar”. It’s an oasis in the chaos that is O’hare airport. Except this oasis serves only Budweiser. We both go off the board for bottled Heineken the last thing than anyone one needs when we’re at 35k feet is a renegade Bud running through my system. Now what seals the deal in making this an outer ring of hell its infested with a gaggle of my arch enemies. The nouveau-credit card-riche-glammed up-middle aged female. You can smell their Elzabeth Arden from ten steps and it typically accompanied by the spilling of white wine spritzers and shrieking giggling. They wear their bootleg Chanel sunglasses even though it is 5 pm and indoors and they brag about the sunglasses are bootleg. I feel like a black hole of angst next to them. Norb and I exchange “uh huh” looks. Torn between irritation and watching the horror of this scene play out.

“You know they are going to be on our flight…” Norb says.
I sigh and shake my head in acknowledgement.

But there bivouacked in the middle of them is a man making his stand. He’s in a dull green T-shirt and baggy shorts, his hair is mussed and unfashionable glasses smudged… he’s one of ours. They are irritated by him because he was there first their large part has now surrounded him. They shoot each other looks and nods that clearly show their irritation. He rattles away at his laptop and sips his gin and tonic slowly…good lad. Its clear he’s not going anywhere. We leave the lounge with this positive sight. Soon we find ourselves at the gate…posing and mugging for the camera as all good tourists should. In minutes we are folded into our seats. The obligatory man infront of us reclines his seat thoughtlessly. We set pillows, blankets, books and ipods around us like astronauts in a capsule. We begin to taxi down the runway and soon we’re off into the encroaching evening sky as the adventure begins!