Contrary to popular belief...
I was definitely not arrested. I know, what does it really take to get to hang out with the Garda for a few hours? Well, some would say stupidity and perhaps a few too many shots, I would say an outgoing, uplifting spirit and the necessity hunger for excitement & adventure. Either that, or I would say leaving everyone's mobile numbers in your bag back at the house (oops!).
The day began very well. Solidly, as Nob would say.
We arrive at the house after wondering where the cabbie was taking us. I couldn't stop thinking about how the cabbie needed to get his hair cut because it appeared to be a bit overgrown on just one side, but that's neither here nor there.
Once we arrived at the house, we hobbled up to the front door with our bags. They pushed me to the front to ring the bell. We watch as two feet appear, then walk away from the door. Interesting. Moments later, they're back and it's Karola.
Once inside, the drinking begins. It is 11 o'clock and that is an ungodly late hour to begin drinking on St Paddy's. It's time to prove what AIESEC Michigan can do.
I can't even recall the name of the liquor that we brought, but it was purchased because it was only eight euro in the duty free shop at Schipol. First great idea of the day, I must say.
The second, well. We'll say it was a fantasticly legal liquor all around the world. It reminded me of The Wizard's Emerald City.
From there, it was to the streets--to dance that is. Arnaub amazingly kept himself from turning tricks on this trip, so there was none of that sort of "to the streets." Also, I think the young girls of Dublin remained safe (since we forgot to check on the legal age of consent...).
Here we met up with other @ers from various geographical locations--all to learn how to dance in ways that punished my legs like never before. We also had shamrocks painted on our faces to wear proudly. From there... well, I'm not quite sure. But I know that we eventually ended up at a restaurant where I indulged in a wonderful Guinness and a delightfully tastey chicken fajita.
This is where it starts to get a bit fuzzy, I'll fully admit that.
We go to another place, to the upstairs which is more of a dining area. I spend most of the evening chatting with Jeff. I remember us moving around and saying hello to his sister, then I think I blinked and somehow managed to find myself in a completely different place.
After looking around for people for a bit, I figure, Hmm, this could be a problem.
After looking around for a while with no luck, I somehow remember the address of Karola's home and snag a cab to take me there. Seven euro later, I'm sitting on her porch. I figured eventually they'd realize I was MIA and they'd have to come home to the house at one point or another. Well, without a coat (which was along with everyone else, wherever it was that they were), it proved a bit chilly.
Walking is better than sitting, I figure. So I walk to the main road and turn to head back to the city centre, when it hits me that that is probably really stupid since I'll just end up more lost than ever and out of more cash from having to take another cab. Silly idea, so I head back toward Karola's house.
This is when I run into two nice looking lads. I ask them where a public phone is, since I figure hey there must be some sort of directory that I could dial and, well, I'll figure it out from there.
They find much humor in the fact that I have no idea where I lost my friends and neither do I have a phone number to call.
This is where my first friends of the night are made. I probably spend a good 30 minutes talking to them after I get the one to give me a hug to keep me warm. While being hugged, they tell me that I'm lucky this isn't a bad area full of pikeys. Then I learn they're only eighteen and will have to return to high school on monday. Also, they are kickboxers who are hoping to make it big one day.
They also teach me the term gaff and I'm sure a few more that I've forgotten since then.
After chatting for a bit, I figure hey maybe they have made their way back to the home now since it is after 2am and bars must be closing. I hail a cab and say farewell to my new mates.
Once in the cab, we zip back to the house--no one there. I say, hey let's head back to town because the hell if i was going to get out before I were fully warm.
All the while, the driver suddenly morphs into my father and I hear you should never leave without phone numbers on you about seven times. I swear, my father's exact words coming out of someone's mouth an entire ocean away. I ensure him I thought I had those numbers on me, but who knows what happened. I'm just glad that I'm not a slurring drunk.
Once into town, I say, Well, I still have no idea where we are but they must be back by now....
Nope!
This is where the driver tells me he could drop me with the Garda. I think, FABULOUS! They'll have the INTERNETS and I'll just look at my email, call their mobiles then PARTY the rest of the night!
The lovely driver somehow produces a pen, tape and some paper for me to leave a message taped to the door. I write a quick message, he reads it over to make sure it makes sense and it's taped to the door.
Next thing I know, we're at the Garda. He brings me inside, refuses my money for the ride (this is where the 20 euro ride becomes a free ride) and bids me adieu.
Inside are two women holding down the fort. No one in the holding cells, they tell me. This is also when I find out that they have no internet. No phone directory--only some database that allows them to search things for if there had ever been a disturbance, then MAYBE they would have a phone number for a certain residence. Nope.
So we all three sit and watch a triathalon going on in Australia. They tell me a bit about the police in Ireland, get a kick out of my Irish name and that my father is also a police officer.
I kept looking at their belts until I realised that whole no gun thing. No guns, no internet, no phone directory.
Then, a load more of officers come in and chat to me about everything that is going on and if I'm having a lovely time so far. I must say, two of them were quite fetching. Fetching as in ungodly hot and attractive.
Eventually, I start nodding off in the chair that I'm sitting in, letting the nice roll of their accents lull me into sleep.
The one officer finds an what I would suppose would be an interrogation room, or perhaps a holding room?, for me to nap in--right next to a heater, so it was a bit of heaven.
They even gave me a ride back to Karola's house, along with the business card that you see above. He said that my dad would get a kick out of it; I think that it's something I won't share for a bit longer. This is when I invited them to watch the rugby matches with us tomorrow.
So, see. No arrests, although I'm dumb and should have asked if they would have taken booking pictures of me. Or asked for a hat.
And that is my side of what happened on my first night out of North America. Complete success, if you ask me.
The day began very well. Solidly, as Nob would say.
We arrive at the house after wondering where the cabbie was taking us. I couldn't stop thinking about how the cabbie needed to get his hair cut because it appeared to be a bit overgrown on just one side, but that's neither here nor there.
Once we arrived at the house, we hobbled up to the front door with our bags. They pushed me to the front to ring the bell. We watch as two feet appear, then walk away from the door. Interesting. Moments later, they're back and it's Karola.
Once inside, the drinking begins. It is 11 o'clock and that is an ungodly late hour to begin drinking on St Paddy's. It's time to prove what AIESEC Michigan can do.
I can't even recall the name of the liquor that we brought, but it was purchased because it was only eight euro in the duty free shop at Schipol. First great idea of the day, I must say.
The second, well. We'll say it was a fantasticly legal liquor all around the world. It reminded me of The Wizard's Emerald City.
From there, it was to the streets--to dance that is. Arnaub amazingly kept himself from turning tricks on this trip, so there was none of that sort of "to the streets." Also, I think the young girls of Dublin remained safe (since we forgot to check on the legal age of consent...).
Here we met up with other @ers from various geographical locations--all to learn how to dance in ways that punished my legs like never before. We also had shamrocks painted on our faces to wear proudly. From there... well, I'm not quite sure. But I know that we eventually ended up at a restaurant where I indulged in a wonderful Guinness and a delightfully tastey chicken fajita.
This is where it starts to get a bit fuzzy, I'll fully admit that.
We go to another place, to the upstairs which is more of a dining area. I spend most of the evening chatting with Jeff. I remember us moving around and saying hello to his sister, then I think I blinked and somehow managed to find myself in a completely different place.
After looking around for people for a bit, I figure, Hmm, this could be a problem.
After looking around for a while with no luck, I somehow remember the address of Karola's home and snag a cab to take me there. Seven euro later, I'm sitting on her porch. I figured eventually they'd realize I was MIA and they'd have to come home to the house at one point or another. Well, without a coat (which was along with everyone else, wherever it was that they were), it proved a bit chilly.
Walking is better than sitting, I figure. So I walk to the main road and turn to head back to the city centre, when it hits me that that is probably really stupid since I'll just end up more lost than ever and out of more cash from having to take another cab. Silly idea, so I head back toward Karola's house.
This is when I run into two nice looking lads. I ask them where a public phone is, since I figure hey there must be some sort of directory that I could dial and, well, I'll figure it out from there.
They find much humor in the fact that I have no idea where I lost my friends and neither do I have a phone number to call.
This is where my first friends of the night are made. I probably spend a good 30 minutes talking to them after I get the one to give me a hug to keep me warm. While being hugged, they tell me that I'm lucky this isn't a bad area full of pikeys. Then I learn they're only eighteen and will have to return to high school on monday. Also, they are kickboxers who are hoping to make it big one day.
They also teach me the term gaff and I'm sure a few more that I've forgotten since then.
After chatting for a bit, I figure hey maybe they have made their way back to the home now since it is after 2am and bars must be closing. I hail a cab and say farewell to my new mates.
Once in the cab, we zip back to the house--no one there. I say, hey let's head back to town because the hell if i was going to get out before I were fully warm.
All the while, the driver suddenly morphs into my father and I hear you should never leave without phone numbers on you about seven times. I swear, my father's exact words coming out of someone's mouth an entire ocean away. I ensure him I thought I had those numbers on me, but who knows what happened. I'm just glad that I'm not a slurring drunk.
Once into town, I say, Well, I still have no idea where we are but they must be back by now....
Nope!
This is where the driver tells me he could drop me with the Garda. I think, FABULOUS! They'll have the INTERNETS and I'll just look at my email, call their mobiles then PARTY the rest of the night!
The lovely driver somehow produces a pen, tape and some paper for me to leave a message taped to the door. I write a quick message, he reads it over to make sure it makes sense and it's taped to the door.
Next thing I know, we're at the Garda. He brings me inside, refuses my money for the ride (this is where the 20 euro ride becomes a free ride) and bids me adieu.
Inside are two women holding down the fort. No one in the holding cells, they tell me. This is also when I find out that they have no internet. No phone directory--only some database that allows them to search things for if there had ever been a disturbance, then MAYBE they would have a phone number for a certain residence. Nope.
So we all three sit and watch a triathalon going on in Australia. They tell me a bit about the police in Ireland, get a kick out of my Irish name and that my father is also a police officer.
I kept looking at their belts until I realised that whole no gun thing. No guns, no internet, no phone directory.
Then, a load more of officers come in and chat to me about everything that is going on and if I'm having a lovely time so far. I must say, two of them were quite fetching. Fetching as in ungodly hot and attractive.
Eventually, I start nodding off in the chair that I'm sitting in, letting the nice roll of their accents lull me into sleep.
The one officer finds an what I would suppose would be an interrogation room, or perhaps a holding room?, for me to nap in--right next to a heater, so it was a bit of heaven.
They even gave me a ride back to Karola's house, along with the business card that you see above. He said that my dad would get a kick out of it; I think that it's something I won't share for a bit longer. This is when I invited them to watch the rugby matches with us tomorrow.
So, see. No arrests, although I'm dumb and should have asked if they would have taken booking pictures of me. Or asked for a hat.
And that is my side of what happened on my first night out of North America. Complete success, if you ask me.
