I’m Not The Only One Who Came To Ireland For St. Patrick’s Day

After a short flight from Paris, I landed in Dublin during a very windy and rainy day. The last 10 minutes of the flight were a bit like a roller coaster ride. Airsick bags were pulled out and at the ready by some, and the rear of the plane let out a cheer once we were on the ground. I was too tired to care.

Once off the plane I soon realized that I was not the only person who had decided to pond the holiday in Ireland. I was at the back of a line that took an hour to get through passport control. Never have I wanted an EU passport more than when I got in that line.

One of the other issues with EVERYBODY going to Dublin for the holiday was a lack of hotel rooms in the city center at my kind of rates. So I took a long cab ride out to West Park where my hotel was. Usually I’m all about public transit when I travel, but sleep deprivation made me opt for the expense of a taxi. The hotel is near a train station and a bus stop so I can make up for that expanse over the next few days.

While I was checking in to the hotel, the friendly lady at the front desk was coughing and commented that she was coming down with a cold and would be going home soon. Uh-oh. She was very nice, so I felt sorry that she wasn’t feeling well instead of angry that she was potentially infecting me with some virus.

I got to my room and went to sleep with plans to hit the town first thing in the morning.

 

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