After a rather inexcusably huge gap in posting, I've published a short reminiscence of my time in Ireland over at Blotto, the Journal of the North American Booze Council. It is, as one might expect from the venue (both of publishing and of subject) largely focused on drinking.
I've reproduced the introductory paragraphs below, and a link to the balance of the essay immediately follows.
Ireland is, first, a blur of ancient stone walls flashing out of the night as we blast down back country lanes, fifty kilometers per hour on the black left side of the road. Sarah has only been driving for a month. She and her sister Emma collected us after we touched down at Shannon, we weary and bleary and them bearing broad smiles and accents. They were, immediately, the most fun people I had ever met, but it was now obvious that in this Rover was where we were going to die, grinning, sung off to heaven by broadcast American blues music.Second Class on the Overnight to Drunkistan, or The Boozy Foreigners – Part 2
No one dies in Ireland before they’ve had a pint.