St Pat's day and other adventures
Trip Start Jan 20, 2008
28Trip End Ongoing
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Where I stayed
Whalley Arms hotel
St Patrick's day has been and gone, and along with it our abortive trip to Dublin. We thought, "what the hell? Ireland isn't all that far away, really, is it?" At first inspection, it would seem to be a fairly simple concept - fly to Dublin on St Pat's, get shitfaced, fly back the next day. Apparently, if you have a return ticket, they can't not let you into the airport, so we figured that we wouldn't even need to bother about accommodation for the night - just get pissed and stagger back to the airport at some stage to sleep it off.
Like most simple plans though, ours was sadly doomed to failure
The short version of the story is that when we arrived at the airport and went to check in, they informed us quite cheerily that they'd never heard of us, nor did they have any record of the internet booking we had made to fly out that day. We could, they told us, fly out with them anyway, but it would cost us a trifling £300. Each. Needless to say, we were somewhat less than impressed with this turn of events, and produced our printed copy of the tickets we had already booked, and (we believed) paid for. As it turns out though, there was a small and innocuous looking little word under the payment status area that said, "pending". So, it wasn't really innocuous at all. In fact, it completely fucked our plans to go to Ireland for the day/night so we decided instead, to get completely and utterly trashed in Blackpool and see what happened from there. This we promptly did.
Erm· what else? Not much really, we're both still working at the Whalley Arms hotel. Oh yes, I've joined the ranks with Douglas as being yet another person who is too stubbornly tight fisted to pay for a taxi home after winding up some ways away, in inclement weather. The Saturday night before Easter Sunday, I wound up accompanying a young lady back to her house for well· if I said coffee and crumpets, would that completely give the game away? Maybe it was coffee and crumpled sheets· Ahem. Well, moving right along· I discovered in the morning that I had unknowingly joined the 90's club (legally you bastards) and decided that a somewhat hasty exit might be a good option. Discretion being the better part of valour and all that. Basically, I didn't want to meet her mum. So after bidding a fond farewell to the previous evening's companion, and not being able to organise a taxi and 8am on Easter Sunday, I set out with limited directions, to run back home.
Now, the run that I undertook (as near as we can determine) was quite not as long as the one that Douglas did to come back to Whalley from Burnley, but it was snowing when I did mine, and I was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt. After some discussion, we've concluded that these factors warrant an additional 2 miles being added to the probable 6 miles that it was from Hurst Green back to Whalley, making us roughly even in the, "I'm too fucking tight to pay for a cab" stakes
Other than a few other adventures along similar lines that don't really merit a mention here, life here is reasonably dull and bearable. We are thinking about trying to get over to Turkey soon, either for anzac day, or for a bit longer holiday with some friends we made in Bulgaria. Not much else to tell really, except: start saving your money lads!! Oktoberfest '08 aint that far away!!
We hope everyone is well back home, and a big g'day to Michael and Penelope and Maximus Dougie jr!
Take care all, and I'll try and get some photos from St Pat's day in Dubli- fucken Blackpool - up soon.