I must apologise to all my loyal readers, I have been neglecting my duties as an informer and a reporter. I’m sorry I’ll do better in the future.
Anyway, I’m in the “great” Galway, it rains here allot and is amazingly cold for only being 45-50 degrees. I left cork Friday on the 10:30 train and made the entertaining mistake of helping an old man on to the train. he said to me “Son, help an old man on to the train, i don’t see too well any more.” so I did… oops, he leaned in real close and thanked me. God I think the alcohol on his breath burned all of the hair from my nose (its ok they needed a trim anyway). so he demanded that I sit with him, and as it seemed i had no choice i did… oops. And with that we were off to Dublin where i would transfer to Galway. he began by saying that he left his half bottle of whisky in the train station, and said he was going to the bar to get a beer and asked if i wanted one, it is 11:00 at this point and i realised i was dealing with a professional. i said no… oops. he came back 10 minuets later with a bag of beer and handed me one so i took it, what choice did i have… oops. So over the next 2 hours he would tell me about his life and serving in the I.R.A. interesting fellow but i think even without the beer i was drinking his breath would have gotten me drunk enough. after he finished his 2 beers and i finished my one a guy my age waled by and the old guy says “hay, do i know you?” and the guy says “I don’t think so.” After discussing it for a while he sat with us and we all got to talking. Shit i forgot to tell you the drunk ex-I.R.A. old man was very adamant about telling the truth. back to the three of us. the old man asks the kid what he was going to Dublin for and the kid says, I kid you not, “i have to tell you the truth, I’m a drug addict and I’m going to get heroin for my friends and me for the week”… oops. so there i found myself, sitting on the train with a tiney Alcoholic ex-I.R.A. soldier (who had shown me his gun shot wounds) and a junkie from Killarney going to Dublin to pick up a shipment of smack for his mates. That was the most fucked up train, ever. needless to say my trip from Dublin to Galway was a bit more tame, but at leat I have a good story to tell.
I’m in Galway now and leaving tomorrow, more to come on the “great” Galway later. for now i must go because my Internet time is up. but Galway had some interesting events. so keep checking in.
love to all,
The Lost
October 27, 2008 at 9:17, pm
Sounds like a fun train ride, Bum. One for the ages. In my experience the train, in whichever country are in, is an interesting time.
I was on my way back from L.A on Amtrak one time when this normally affable drunk starts claims he is going to kill everybody one the train. He starts screamin about how he’s from south Philly and to back up off of him because-again-he’s going to kill everyone on the train. He kept reaching behind his back like he had a gun, but I could clearly see he didn’t. I think they kicked him off miles away from our next stop.
The next morning some guy who was about 6′4″ 300+ pounds started yelling and complaining that these kid’s DVD player was too loud. The lady behind me yelled at him telling him to stop because he was making the kids cry at which point he turn and started coming towards her. Being a decent human being I stepped in between him and his soon to be victim. He looked like he was gonna crush me. But I really couldn’t let him beat up some lady especially with her baby right next to her. Luckily I stalled until security could escort him to a different seat. Everytime I walked by him for the rest of the trip he would look at me like he wanted to rip off my head and shit down my next.
Point of all that is, trains are a good time no matter where your are and are full of lasting memories.
Keep writing, Bum. It’s good stuff. And if you get homesick, check out my blog for some good laughs.
October 28, 2008 at 5:42, pm
Hey, I hadn’t checked in for a few days and missed your last wseveral great posts — You make me feel as if I were right there — which in the case of the aging I.R.A. guy and the sad little junkie isn’t altogether comfortable, but gosh, that surely is what travel’s about!
love, Auntie Carol
October 29, 2008 at 1:30, am
Hey,Love. Apparently, all you need do to hear from your cousin, who practically lives next, is leave the country. Being, as usual, a little behind, I just read all your posts and they’re wonderful—you write so very well.
And I am so familiar with that horribly self-conscious, ringing-in-the ears self awareness that can swamp you when you’re by yourself in a strange place with strangers. It can feel like all your borders have been razed and whoever it is that is You is leaking away into nothing. Sometimes, it’s helped me to turn my focus outward as much as possible. Make up a back story for the guy on the next pub seat or the family on the bus; Create a mental running list of “they say crisp/I say potato chip” or “things I would never see in Seattle”; Even make up an entirely new story for yourself…you could after all be anyone. (though generally better to stick to the truth when actually talking to people as I have learned from mortifying experience) For me, one of the best things about travel, which is so NOT a vacation, was an opening up of that sense of the limitless number of selves/lives we all carry around with us.
When things get really rough you can always tell yourself that you’re changing who you are for the better in ways you’ll still be understanding years from now (which is most likely true and definitely comforting) and then go have another Guiness, you lucky sod. As to junkies and terrorists, it’s funny how often you can absolutely know that you will love something in retrospect if only you didn’t have to actually experience it in the present. I will tell you my train story, an embarrassing epic of monumental cluelessness, when you get back as I can’t face it on a public forum. Keep writing, for us if not yourself. May the best of your past be the worst of your future
All my love and(completely good natured and supportive) envy, xx Lo