The Arrival
January 17 & 18, 2006 The Arrival
Got into Dublin early – is that even possible? I never heard of an early arrival – not 45 minutes early! Any way, we got in at 5AM, Ireland time. The airport was completely dead and I just followed the crowd like one of the sheep until of course, I saw a bathroom! (You will forever know about my potty breaks – it’s one of the things that have always been important in our family – not where is the food, but where is the bathroom!)
I had the worry that my checked bag would be lost for a few days so I packed “needed” items in my carry on- just in case. When every one of the people on my airplane came and left the baggage area – and I was still waiting for my red monster, I thought- here we go! But a woman came down and said some bags were coming on a different turn around. And it was mine and 2 other guys. Thank you! –Later I had WISHED they had lost it! It was a MONSTER to drag around!
I again wrestled with the red monster, but being that the airport was abandoned- it was quite easy to find a wheeler. I won this war with getting it on the wheeler! I went up to the information desk to see if I could get help with finding a room. YES, I LEFT MY COUNTRY WITHOUT HAVING A ROOM BOOKED THE FIRST NIGHT! Here I am stilling in an empty airport with my bags and no room. Stupid – YES, so lets move on.
I was told that the information desk could help me, but it would not be opened for an hour. OK, no big deal. I sit and waited with about 30 other people. They are waiting for a pickup ride and I’m waiting for a miracle. At 6:00AM I am at the information desk. Their answer is: YOU DON’T HAVE A ROOM? And we don’t help make reservations; you will have to wait until 8AM when Tourist Information opens (dumb American). I knew I heard it under their breath! 8AM GREAT!
I sit back down. I am getting mad– first at myself for not having a room all picked out- and mad that I had thought that the airport was a 24-hour service for tourists! So I decided that I was smart enough to start the work on finding me a room. I had technology up the yingyang, so I’ll use it. I pull out my laptop and attempt to get connected to the Y-FI that the seating area is labeled with. But “NO NETWORK TO BE FOUND” was yelling back at me on the screen! (It will soon be my new mantra). OK, no help!
Then I remembered, on the plane I bought 2 –20 euro phone cards, so I thought I would let my fingers do the walking. But that doesn’t happen in Ireland. No phone books. I pull out my Ireland travel book and start calling hostels. Now, I’m tired, I am trying to straddle my bags because every 5 minutes there is a announcement from the airport police to watch your bags at all times, for the boggy man will take it from you, cut up a dead baby and put it back in your bag and put it back under your hand. So BEWARE!
So I’m straddling my red monsters- keeping the eyes in the back of my head wide open and trying to dial the 8 thousand numbers that are required to just get an outside line, then the code, the password and finally the number that I am calling. Five tries later, I finally get an man from India on the line- wanting to charge me 50 euros for a nights stay. Now, I am in IRELAND, you know the land of the little people with boroughs and a man from India answered the phone- with all these numbers I just put in the phone- DID I CALL INDIA FOR A ROOM???? I hoped I hadn’t, and since I have no idea how to get there, where it is and is 50 euros a rip off, I decide to wait for the Travel Information desk. I’m defeated and I have 2 hours and 45 minutes to wait!
I want to cry. I want to sleep. And I want to go home. I yell at God. And I want to pay the boogieman to take these damn bags. But I wait, and wait and wait.
At 8AM I start walking. I walk past the Information desk and give them a dirty look. I know they are snickering at the dumb American that doesn’t have a room. I try and walk with dignity..
I come up on the Tourist Information desk and get the sense right away that she knows I’m coming to her. She’s not ready for “these dumb tourists” so early in the morning. I can almost hear her thoughts “don’t come any closer! I don’t have all my postcard racks, the line metal thingies, the map racks and my lights haven’t even come all the way on- step away from the desk!”
Being the psychic I am- I hear her thoughts and start walking very slowly. I under no circumstances want to piss off this person. She is my only way out of this damn airport and I would get her coffee and kiss her rump if need be! I did not want to be stuck in an airport, like Tom Hanks in that dumb movie. Being able to see Dublin, but not able to get out to it!
So I turn and look around and ACT like- “Hey Lady, I’m not pressuring you!” I finally see that she has all her stuff out, and I wait for an unsuspecting man to go up to the counter to by postcards. OK, I go in for the kill. I put on my most needy, yet not desperate look and ask, are you able to help me find accommodations? She’s on to me, but it is her job and she very effectually asks her questions and finds me a room. And then changes me a fee. Another something they don’t tell you in the books. She then informs me that I got a room, but cannot get into it for 6 hours! (I think this is the only part of the job she likes). I’m like WHAT!?!?!?!??! She tells me that you have to check out by 10AM and they clean it and it’s not ready till 2PM. GREAT- what do I do for 6 hours and where can I pee and I have to close my eyes- GREAT! She says they do have luggage storage, so you can drop it off. Well, I grateful for that! I give her a great big “thank you” and a lick on the face and go off to the area she points to for a bus to City Center and a BED.
I think I can only take the wheeler so far, so I bite the bullet and try and get the big red monster on my back. Oh, Great- I have to pee again (it has been hours now!) But it will have to wait. I am waiting outside by the bus stop. I am leaning up against the rack for the wheelers, that’s when I realize that I could of taken one outside. Oh well, I can balance it on the rack. It takes a good 20 min. for the bus that I need to come. During the time I start to doubt the bus number she gave me. I’m hopeless with remembering numbers – pretty bad for being a bookkeeper for 25 years – but a fact, nonetheless. Finally a bus comes and the guy parks and gets off. Another man gets on and takes our money. EXACT change- mind you! I ask if this bus goes to Avalon House and the nice man says yes. I asked if he would call me when it’s coming up. Yes. I try and get my bags in the bus, but there is a pole in the middle of the on door. I can’t get the red monster past it with the roller behind! I almost fall back off the ramp but I get a hold of the pole and pull myself through! Not a pretty entrance. They have luggage rack on one side and I push the wheeler and my camera case in them. I can’t get the damn red monster off my back- so I sit on the very little edge of a two seater and let the red monster spread out. Then the really nice man that took my money gets out of the bus and leaves a very mean man in his place. It seems the mean man is my bus driver and he had to take a pee break! (Could he pee for me?) Now, I don’t know if the nice man told the mean man where I was going- so I have to pick up me and my cross to bear and make my way to the front without falling over and ask through a Plexiglas door – can you tell me when we get to Avalon House? (Batting my eyes and giving my needy pout). He snarls back at me in an Irish borough – YES, I HAVE IT HERE! And points to a clipboard that must of told him that. First I was recoiled by his snarl, and then excited by this borough – I WAS IN IRELAND!
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