So . . . I had this dream -- I know what you are going to accuse me of and you'd be right! I ate spicy food therefore, strangely stupid dream.
I dreamt I was in Ireland and sitting in a pub in Dublin when I was handed a t-shirt. I put it on thinking it was the name of the pub but it wasn't. It said, "1st degree of inebriation: SOBER" in great big yellow letters. I looked around to see if anyone else had a t-shirt like mine, and well, there were black t-shirts galore all with either yellow, red, blue, orange or green lettering, but I could not see what they said because people were moving about the place and it seemed a blur.
So I ordered me up a Murphys Stout and sat sipping me beer thinking the chat was always loud in Dublin pubs and I was wondering to meself why that was until I realised I was in one of those pubs made famous by the Irish Tourist Board where Americans come and Americans are by nature LOUD.
I shrugged to meself that that was the why of it and went back to sipping me beer. I then wondered why it was in a Dublin pub you paid an arm and a leg for your jar. I ordered me another as I thought of that and realised again it was the fault of the Irish Tourist Board touting such places to foreign travellers who they knew would pay an arm and a leg for the brew and the atmosphere. But I did not reach this conclusion until I was three Murphys in.
Someone came along and handed me another t-shirt. I put it on over the first one and looked down and noticed it was red and the lettering said: "2nd degree of inebriation: MERRY!" Well, I was sort of, at least I felt quite happy as I ordered me fourth brew.
As I sat there I wondered why everyone around me were so lively. I looked at me jar of Murphys and thought it looked no different than usual so was it the beer? Nah, not everyone was drinking Murphys, some had Guinness, some had Beamish, some O'Hara's Celtic, some Kilkenny and others Harp. So couldn't be the brew but then I realised the most lively among us was the whiskey drinkers swirling their Jamesons or Bushmills, the majority in their cups on Paddys. I decided to order up me merry way to an Irish whiskey and a Paddys was brought before me.
As I contemplated the smoothness of me Paddys Irish Whiskey, someone gave me another T-shirt and I put it on. I looked down and the letters were an electric blue colour and the wording said: "3rd degree of inebriation: DRUNK!" I realised I was sort of there I was, but that didn't stop me from ordering another Paddys.
Behind me was a wee bit of ruckus, there was a group of pub-goers hoping about with "DRUNK" t-shirts trying to do Irish dance but they just looked silly and everyone, including the would-be River dancers were laughing. I toasted the group and ordered another Murphys and a shot of Paddys. I was doing shots with me beer and lost count of how many beer shots I had until someone pulled a t-shirt over me head. I looked down and it was orange and the words said: "4th degree of inebriation: TOTALLY WASTED."
Uh huh that was probably the case and being in such a state I did not care. It was then I changed over to what everyone at the bar was drinking -- Irish car bombs! It was then I was wondering why the music was so loud and then I remembered, when I was half a block away I could hear that music and that sound led me to the pub. But the music was American not Celtic. But then this was a tourist trap and well . . . goes without saying.
I was on me tenth car bomb feeling no pain when the barkeep leans towards me with a folded t-shirt and informs me I have "arrived." I unfolded the t-shirt and in big green letters it said: "5th degree of inebriation IRISH!" Yup it said that and yup I put it on.
Seems because I did not open me gob, everyone thought I was an American and working me way to being Irish, or what Americans think Irish are . . . drunkards. I took exception to that I did, even though I had on the offending t-shirt. But then I clamped me gob shut thinking let them think what they will, we are making money off them as they try to be us, but know not a fig about us.
So in me dream I was an alcoholic, but in real life I be a coffee addict. Back home there is a pub on almost every street corner because for centuries the meeting place in British Europe has always been the inn or pub. And believe it or not, not everyone who frequents these places, and many of us do, are not alcoholics. It is chat up friends at the end of the day that be the real draw. The tradition survives to this day! Strange how being from another country and knowing better, one picks up what people living in the adopted country think of you. Not only that now that I live here, I have adopted the coffee craze of Americans. So what's up with that? Or more, what's up with me?
Copyright © 2014 All rights reserved