Because Airplane Bathrooms are Odd

Our journey began on May 19. All the talk and planning that stemmed from buying a copy of Frommer's Italy at the Waldenbooks going-out-of-business sale in Crossroads Mall had finally come to fruition. Despite the Bailey dog's efforts to eat our guidebook and thwart our trip, we were on our way.

 

Thankfully our flight didn't leave until about 11:30 am, so we didn't have to be at the airport incredibly early. Alec's dad dropped us off at the airport, again reminding us that we should take a gondola ride, because it's romantic. We laughed. We ate Sonic breakfast in the airport, went down to our gate, and boarded our flight to Chicago. Once in Chicago we had some time, so we had a leisurely beer and some McDonald's. From our gate we could see the McDonald's across the way, with the airport worker in her bright vest. Remember, I don't want no scrub.

 

Finally we boarded the long, transatlantic, overnight flight. When you're having trouble sleeping (Alec did not have trouble sleeping on this leg) your mind tends to wander. Mine wandered to the strangeness of airplane bathrooms. I don't know for sure when smoking was banned on flights, but I do know that airplane bathrooms have not been updated with the times. Could it be considered cruel and unusual punishment for an airplane bathroom on a transatlantic flight to have an ashtray when smoking is illegal? Wouldn't it make sense to remodel the bathroom to utitlize that ashtray space for something else?

 

As we descended into London Heathrow, Alec started playing every London or England related song he could find on his iPhone. We giggled in anticipation and lack-of-sleep. We heard airplane announcements made by people with real life British accents. We had arrived.

 

Except we hadn't technically arrived. We still had to get on a plane to Shannon. Heathrow at 5:45 am is a pretty calm place, but passport control is still slow. And, as it turns out, we were in the wrong line. Of course, the line we were supposed to be in actually wasn't a line, it was just us. So, once we found the correct queue, it was smooth sailing to the concourse, or more accurately the mall. All kinds of shops, mostly high-end but some cheap souvenir-y stuff (like my Dad's velcro Manchester United wallet) littered the airport. A proper British lady, in a very professional voice, would come over the loudspeaker every few minutes to remind us that, "All unattended baggage will be collected...and destroyed." We thought that sounded a bit more harsh that the usual American announcement about unattended bags, but perhaps it was just because she was British.

 

The flight to Shannon was short. Once we arrived, we went through passport control, picked a random customs line (since none were attended anyway), and headed over to pick up our rental car. The Ka. Yes, it was a Ford Ka. We had fun saying, "To the KA!" and sounding like we were imitating Mayor Quimby from The Simpsons. It looked like a bright blue Easter egg. We loaded our luggage into the back and got settled in our seats, which of course was strange because they were on opposite sides of the car from our regular seats. 

 

We had decided to travel through Limerick, mostly to say that we had been to Limerick. And it was in Limerick that we began seeing lots and lots and lots of political signs regarding the upcoming referendum on austerity. We learned something of EU politics by listening to the radio, and it sounds like a big mess. As we drove through Limerick, we decided that we would prefer to get more out into the countryside before choosing a place to stop and eat. Let's face it, we were tired and Limerick was a bigger city. Driving in bigger cities on the other side of the road on very little sleep was not a good idea. In our attempts to get back to the highway, we had to pull over, pull out the owner's manual, and read to learn how to put the Ka into reverse. Then, when we did stop for lunch in Adare, we had to pull the manual back out to figure out how to lock the passenger door. It was tricky, I promise!

 

We stopped along the (small) highway in a town called Adare. We ate a delicious pub lunch at Aunt Lena's (The Last Watering Hole Before Dublin!) and had our first pints of Guinness in Ireland. And they tasted grand.

 

Back on the road, we had to take a slight detour due to some sort of emergency on the main highway. There were lots of emergency vehicles and flashing lights, but we're not sure what they were for. Consequently, we ended up on an even smaller road, with lots and lots of blind turns, and all the traffic that got diverted from the main road. Hello white knuckles!

 

At last we reached our destination, Dingle.We made our way to the B&B, The Lighthouse, which was awesome. Great view out our window to the harbor, great breakfast, and, most of all, a town we could walk around so we didn't have to drive anymore that day. After a brief rest, we walked down to town to get some dinner at a pub recommended by our hosts. The music was great, and so was the seafood chowder. Amazing! In an effort to take in the various stouts of Ireland, we drank a Murphy's. It may be blasphemous to say, but we both ranked Murphy's higher than Guinness on our scale of tasty beers. Of course, Guinness is still good (and good for you!) but Murphy's was yummy. We sat with an older couple from Vancouver and chatted--the husband had an opinion on everything and the wife was a sweet soul. After a while we decided that the travel was catching up with us, so we headed back up the hill to collapse.

 

Coming up next: Irish Breakfast, the most important (and most delicious!) meal of the day!