Chapter 4: A Bump in the Road

Stranded in Dublin (part 1 of 2)

I arrived at the Ashfield House hostel on a Thursday afternoon; timing couldn’t have been better.  I had two nights to enjoy my 1^st hosteling experience, meet some people, and have some real fun before traveling to London on Saturday. 

The Ashfield House hostel is located right beside Trinity College and a couple of minutes walk away from the legendary Temple Bar area (a cool, medieval-looking historic district in Dublin that is full of pubs. It is pleasant to walk during the day, and especially renowned for it’s nightlife).  It was a neat hostel; cozy and comfortable.  It was the perfect place to stay for a couple of nights.

The first night I met some really cool peeps: there was Jens, the young Norwegian backpacker who had just arrived from hitchhiking the countryside (big balls on this kid!); there was Bridget, a young Australian journalist that was awaiting the arrival of her work permit from the British embassy in order to continue to her next destination where she would meet her boyfriend; there were a couple of other equally nice people hanging around, and then there was Randy, the Australian free spirited traveller (or hippie by conventional terms), who was also on-hold in Dublin while waiting for his work papers from the Chinese embassy.  This last guy was beyond awesome!  He reminded me of a childhood friend of mine that was one of the nicest persons I’ve ever met; like my friend, he was always smiling and friendly to everyone alike.  The dude just emanated good energy. 

We went out to the Temple Bar to shoot some shit and have some beers.  It was nice and we had a good time but, as the night came to an end, I felt that uncomfortable sensation throughout my body that usually drove me towards mayhem.  

It was horrible, I had to shut it down but everybody was going home, so I asked Randy if he knew where I could get some weed.  He told me he had some hash and he’d share it with me if I bought him a beer.  So I did and, after the beer, we went off to the river with Jens to smoke a joint, thou Jens didn’t smoke; he had some silly excuse for not doing so but I could tell he didn’t really want to smoke, he probably felt some imaginary "social pressure" creeping up on him cause Randy seemed pretty chill and it made no difference to me, I just wanted to get high.

The next morning was a bit tough on the old self-esteem because I’d promised myself I wouldn’t smoke in Europe, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.  So I got up, took a shower, had breakfast and took a bus to the British embassy to retrieve my passport. Everything seemed perfect; the site of Dublin had never looked so cheerful.  When I got to the embassy, however, they told me that the visa wasn’t ready and they didn’t open on the weekends so I’d have to come back on Monday.  “Whatever…” I thought to myself “just a couple more days in Dublin.”  I was a bit bummed out but it wasn’t really that bad, I mean, I would have to lose a plane ticket I bought on discount and purchase another one but I’d eventually get to London.  It’s not like I had a choice anyways.

As the night arrived I thought I might take this Friday night for rest.  My friend Randy had gone camping and Bridget was above the whole crazy hosteling experience so I had no crew to go out.  Things were going Ok until I met a friendly Portuguese called Daniel (who barely spoke English) and an imposing Duchess called Madeleine (who spoke like five different languages fluently).  We had some beers and talked about traveling.  

They were both experienced world travelers: Daniel had been pretty much everywhere and Maddy had just arrived from a nine-month, solo-backpacking trip throughout South America!  I was impressed that Daniel had travelled everywhere without speaking fluent English but I was actually confused and a bit intimidated by Maddy’s courage of backpacking from Argentina to Colombia by herself.  Women like that just don’t exist in Colombia and, even I, as a dude, have to confess that I was fucking terrified to go backpacking by myself!  The only reason I went through with it was because I couldn’t get anyone to come along and my ex-girlfriend (with whom I still maintained contact) gave me the encouraging push I lacked in order to do it alone.  Listening to Maddy’s story made me realize how irrationally frightened I had become of life.

I went out with my new crew for a 2^nd round at Temple Bar where we met up with an extremely amicable friend of Maddy called Alex (the Polish madman!).  We drank so much I thought I was going to lose consciousness.  In the midst of the night, our crew split up because Daniel and Maddy wanted to grab a bite, and Alex and I went out, like a couple of horny teenagers, looking for women.  Thing was, however, we were already too drunk and sloppy to pick up anyone so we bombed pretty much every shot we took.  

At the end of the night, Alex told me to come over to his place but I was hesitant.  “Come on mate, it’s not like I’m going to try and shag you!” Insisted Alex, making me laugh.  The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I just wanted to go to sleep and I knew where he was going with this; I’d seen this scenario before.  It happens when “unsatisfied” people get together at the end of the night and console their existentialist dilemmas with whatever drug they can find.  

Didn't take much to change my mind though.  I finally decided that I couldn’t let such an awesome guy hanging like that and my frail willpower gave in, so we ended up at his place, drinking and smoking tobacco pointlessly until dawn.  I just thank God he didn’t have any cocaine!

I woke up hours later with a pretty bad hangover and thought to myself “Fuck this, I’m never drinking again.”  Alex had passed out in a very uncomfortable position on top of a puff couch, right beside a small patch of his own vomit.  I woke him up to ask for directions to get back to the hostel.  We said goodbye and we agreed to keep in touch; it’s crazy to think I just met the guy last night, it felt as if he were a life-long friend. 

Anyways, I returned to the Ashfield house before lunch and went for a walk through Dublin without a particular destination.  Walking along those poetically medieval streets I ventured into the Polish neighborhood and purchased some food (bananas and pasta) because the Spar corner store next to the hostel was a complete rip-off and I wanted to save on food; I’d spent way more than my planned budget, primarily on booze.  My walk ended at around six in the afternoon only to enter the hostel and find Daniel and Maddy getting ready for a 2^nd night out on town.  I was happy to see them, but extremely anxious at the same time.

“Stay strong Rick, remember how horrible you felt this morning, you’re never drinking again.”  I said to myself as they greeted me and asked me about the denouement of the previous night.  “So, we’re a thinkin to goes to a different bar tonight, are yu ready?”  Asked Daniel with that thick Portuguese accent and a smile from ear to ear.  “Fuck no!” I said in my mind as I agreed joyfully and accepted the beer he was extending my way.  

I drank the first sip of that bitter and sparkling golden liquid thinking, “I’m such a social prostitute!”  I was a bit reluctant at first, still moody, but before I knew it, my bottle was empty and my frown had turned upside down.  Of course, I then proceeded to run out the door and into the overly-priced corner store to buy some more beer. 

On this night, I was on fire!  I felt full of energy and extremely happy; there was no stopping me.  I met a group of lovely Belgian girls (that we later invited to tag along) and a British high school rugby team that were all over the fucking place.  We went out for a 3^rd round at the Temple Bar and visited various different bars.  It was just Daniel and I, and like seven girls, thou I think Maddy wasn’t too fond of the competition, and we ran into the crazy rugby guys in one of the bars later on in the night.  Crazy-fun night and I made some new friends but, come the end of the night, again, I was restless and anxious, and didn’t really want the night to end.  So, instead of accepting the run was over, I hung around the lobby of the hostel, drinking and smoking with a couple of the rugby guys. 

Among all the nameless blokes in the crowd I got to meet Murray, who seemed like quite a gentle man with a bit of a crazy touch, and Ed, who was as mad as a goat with a hint of gentleman.  Ed was a smart kid thou, he just had very … creative ideas (like getting naked and running around the roof of the hostel for no apparent reason, WTF!!  I know!).  Anyway, we drank some more and smoked some cigarettes until sleep could be delayed no longer.

The next day I woke up pretty banged up and crankier than ever thinking,  “Ok, now I’m never drinking again!  Thank God tomorrow is Monday.  Only two more days to go…” but the thought wasn’t comforting at all.  I didn’t want to be there anymore.  I felt angry for no reason and I was beginning to loose hope.

I went to walk along the streets and, for a moment, I caught myself reliving fights with my boss and obsessing over how much I hated him.  I remembered all the times he disrespected me, treated me like I was stupid, and all the obvious lies he told me.  I dreamed of assassinating him with my bare hands.  It was completely macabre and insane.  All of the sudden, I caught myself breathing heavily and clenching my teeth.  I felt the intoxicating sensation anger produces going down my neck spreading through my chest and into my arms. 

Now that shit was not normal!  I felt so worn out that I had to stop and sit down.  I took a couple of deep breaths to lower my heart rate and proceeded to write the guy a hate letter.  It felt great to let all that poison out, but I realized something was seriously messed up here (I mean, besides my daydreaming obsession of assassinating someone).  

It was graver than that.  I’d dreamed of killing people out of anger before but this was different.  Not that there's anything right about dreaming with killing someone but I was on vacation in Europe.  I’d quit my job like two months ago and my boss wasn’t even in my life anymore.  I felt like one of those crazy people you see in the streets fighting with ghosts. 

Morning walk ended faster than usual so I parked myself on a couch in the hostel lobby, obsessed with a new thought for which I had no explanation,

“There’s something fishy going on here…”