“I want to move back to NYC and live in a Pent House, and experience the Gossip Girl NYC life.” - Yer Man, my (straight male) Irish friend goes on to tell me how much he loves Gossip Girl. He’s watched all the seasons, more than his girlfriend has watched. I got a kick out of this.
Tl;dr: Landed mighty early in the morning in Dublin, found my way to Yer Man and Yer Wan’s flat, napped all fucking day because I was really tired, met Yer Man after work for a pint, grabbed dinner with Yer Wan after she got out of work, then grabbed another drink at a pub while watching Ireland’s euro cup match (half watching through the window of a bar next door as we stood outside).
I arrived in Dublin after a shite night of sleep on my flight
I was pretty much out of it from the moment we touched down. I waited in the customs line, trying not to give attitude to the 80-something year old American lady behind me, complaining about the length of the border control line. I wanted to say, “Lady, stuff it. This line is nothing. Try being a non-US citizen and going into the United States. I’m sure it’s worse.” Instead I decided to keep my thoughts to myself, because who wants to argue with a crotchety old lady. Instead I did stuff like stair at her little old husband’s huge nose and ears wondering to myself, “Why is it that our ears and noses never stop growing? That’s so weird. I should google that later. I hope mine don’t get that big.” Then I made it through border control. I love the Dublin airport. I’ve been through there a few times in the past couple of years and they really have their shit together. Plus, they are nice.
I found my way to the bus that Yer Wan had directed me to get. I bought a round trip ticket (promptly losing the return ticket) and headed to Ringsend, the area of Dublin that my friends live in. It was such an easy trip from the airport. I managed to make it a little less easy because I’m an idiot. I got off one stop too late, so walked the extra length back towards the first stop while it started to drizzle on me. I decided not to get out my umbrella since I’d arrive soon…so I thought. I searched around for way longer than necessary for their house number, forgetting that Yer Wan told me there was a gate with a code. Finally I found this and punched the code in. I found the key in the tail pipe in Yer Man’s car. Then I went inside, joined the wifi (first things first), and fell asleep for the remainder of the day.
It was 11am. I was like, “Ok, I’ll just nap until 1pm. Ehh, maybe 1:30. Ok, fuck it, I’ll just let myself rest and set my alarm for 3pm.” Then I slept until 5pm. Oops. I was really tired. Yer Man arrived home from work about half five (5:30 in Irish time), and we promptly got out the door and into a bar (well, an outdoor bar, so ‘out to a bar’). We had a blast catching up. I talked his ear off about Airbnb and life in NYC and he talked to me about Blake Lively and Gossip Girl (among other topics)
Who are these stupid Irish people anyways?
Woah wait, who's calling my friends stupid? Holy shit. I love this couple. The three of us spent a summer living together in NYC and guess where be met… Craigslist! Yep. I found an apartment for a month during a summer internship, and they were staying in one of the other bedrooms. This place was a shit hole in Hell’s Kitchen. There were like 10 people in the apartment at any given time, between the five bedrooms and few couches. The three of us just clicked. They were over for Yer Wan’s internship at a law firm. Yer Man found a job at a cafe to get by for a few months.
The three of us were stranded with nowhere to live after a month in this hell hole apartment, so we decided, “Hey, why not save some moneys and the three of us can share a one bedroom! Mis can sleep in the living room on a shite mattress stolen from the Columbia dorms (if you could even call this thing a mattress). It was an adventure of the summer. I feel like we really got to know each other, sharing this 400 sq foot shoe box, where the bathroom was bigger than the kitchen that is was connected to. It really felt like you were cooking in a toilet at this place.
What the fuck is ‘Yer Wan’ and ‘Yer Man’ anyways?
Glad you asked. It’s a common way to call a man or a woman in Ireland. Translated to American English as ‘Your One’ and “Your Man,’ meaning ‘that lady’ or ‘that guy.’ These two Irish folks used this phrase constantly and I had no fuckin’ clue what they were on about. It was to the point where I was like, “Hold up, who is this guy “Yurman” you keep mentioning?” I thought she worked with a guy named Yurman. Who the fuck is named Yurman? No idea. She cracked up at me, “Oh you thought I worked with a guy named Yurman, you fucking idiot. It’s Your Man, and it’s just a way we refer to people.” Ok. Got it.
Now we got that straight. What did you do the rest of the day?
We walked down through Dublin’s tech epicenter, passing Airbnb, Google, Facebook, and the like, to sit outside for a pint. Yer Wan joined us when she got out. We caught up on all things life, and chatted about the good old days in NYC together…like how I remember Yer Man stuffing bottles of cider into his pant leg, so he didn’t have to pay for them at the bar. Yer Wan told me how white tequila makes her think of me (Miz). WTF? Really? It’s funny what you remember is so different than what other people remember. I also recall Yer Man getting home from his NYC cafe job late at night with bags full of pastries. I wanted to kill him, because they were fucking delicious and it pained me to refuse a chocolate croissant at 11pm every night.
The three of us make a great crew.
We grabbed dins at a cool Mexican restaurant called 777. I was quite impressed with the food (I have pretty fucking high standards, guys). We popped by a pub after dinner and stood outside. I had a pint of Guinness because that’s what I felt like I should do. I saw a very very short man and pointed him out to Yer Wan. “Hey look how little that man is. He’s so cute drinking his Guinness.” She let me know that he was actually a leprechaun, so I saw one of those. Ireland was playing in the Euro cup. They won. That was exciting, but seeing a leprechaun may have been slightly more exciting.
We headed home after. I was ready for bed, even though I slept all fucking day. It was fine, I could sleep more. So I did. I slept all the way until noon the next day. Not everyone can sleep like me. I’m good at it.
Day two in Dublin. What's up?
- Sleep half the day
- Attempt to use their shower
- Walk to cool coffee shop 1
- Walk to cool coffee shop 2
- Write for hours
- Grab a pint with Yer Man and Yer Wan
- Grab pizza with Yer Man and Yer Wan
- Get schooled on Irish history and watched the movie ‘Michael Collins’
- Chat about how Leave was winning in the Brexit vote, but went to bed knowing Stay would pull ahead while we slept