A Break from Wine

Walking through Dublin is like a perpetual game of Laser Tag. This is only kind of a joke. See, the cross walks make the most ridiculous sounds, so much so that when I was intended to cross the street all I could think of was being released from the Briefing Room and into the game. For those of you who aren't avid laser taggers, what I mean is that being in Dublin is like living in the future. Except everyone is a lot less attractive than you'd hoped and imagined...
Aside from that, my trip revolved almost entirely around three things: James Joyce, grassy fields, and beer. I have no complaints.
Cameron and I went to the Guinness factory where I got unreasonably drunk off my free pint that was included in the entry fee. This was my fault, because for whatever reason I had convinced myself it would be easier/better to stay up all night rather than having to wake up for my early flight. This resulted in a useless half an hour of sleep that night, intense grumpiness, four naps, and general discontentment. Whatever though, right?
We also went to several writing-oriented museums and centers, parks with lovely sunshine and several pubs.
Then there was the volcano. To be fair, I can't even be that mad about it. It's too funny. I got trapped in Ireland because of a volcano. My flight out was cancelled, I had to take a ferry to Holyhead where I stayed overnight in the train station for eight hours in and out of consciousness, and was on various trains for the next five hours until finally I got back to home sweet New Cross because of a volcano. This appeals too much to my sense of humor to really be that upsetting.
In all honesty, though, I've never missed a place as much as I missed New Cross for those few days. I was completely ecstatic to get back. And the following day other people started trickling in and we ended up having a bit of a welcome back party. It feels good to be home.