A picture of my home. Drew it there while supping Guinness watching the departure board. While you're here, let me tell you a story...
Last year I boarded a flight in Edinburgh on December 23rd. It was the last flight to leave before the airport closed due to the bad snow. Midair, somewhere over Dundalk, we were told Dublin Airport had closed. Again, snow. We pricked about a bit above Ireland, I joined to the sky high pub and eventually we landed in Cork, easily the furthest away from where I wanted to be possible. Hung about on the tarmac for a while, pilot had to figure out what to do. With every other airport in Ireland closed, they let us out. Said they (Ryanair) would organise buses to Dublin. Not instilled with confidence and fearing they'd charge me to board the bus (Ryanair), I went rogue. I phoned a friend from Cork, got my options. A quick taxi into Cork train station later, I'd a ticket to Dublin in my pocket and I was sprinting along the platform to get the last train to Dublin. Train was delayed several times. Ireland's countryside looked like Alaska as we crawled through Limerick. I got off the train five hours later, still not done. Made my way to Abbey Street and sat on my suitcase for an hour in the snow waiting for the last bus to Carrickmacross. Last plane. Last train. Last bus. I felt a bit like Indiana Jones, slowly getting home by dumb luck. Bus arrived. I stood up. A little old woman appeared out of nowhere and tried to get on the bus before me. Tried. She didn't. Two hours later I was home. Changed me socks, put on the telly.
Today's flight is actually ahead of schedule. It's almost... Too easy. Happy Christmas, facebook folk!
No comments:
Post a Comment