Those are the only words that can sum up Dublin.
Kristen and I didn’t go to bed Sunday night, opting to go straight from the bars to the airport which seemed like a good idea at the time. We barely made our bus to the airport that left at 5:50am, and thankfully we made our flight. Now here is where it gets funny. We never got the address of the place we were staying in Dublin, so we got off the plane, had no idea where to go, and didn’t have a phone number to get a hold of anyone. Kristen somehow remembered the name of the apartment company, so we asked the airport info people if they could look up the number for us. The guy who answered figured out where we were staying and gave us the address. We then were told to take the bus, then walk a bit. Well, the address he gave us didn’t exist. We asked tons of passerbys, no one knew. Finally a guy used his iPhone to map it, then led us on a ten minute walk around the city before realizing he was lookin at a map of Dublin, Australia. Waaaaaat the F?! So that happened, then we got in a cab. The cab didn’t know the address either but graciously used his cell to call the number. Turns out the ass on the phone gave us the wrong address! So we spent an hour walking to nowhere. Cabbie saved the day. To make this funnier, our friend, who’s flight wasn’t until 10am, beat us there. He was waiting at the hotel when we arrived. All I could do was shrug my shoulders and laugh.
*Side note about Car Bombs: Apparently it is okay to call them that in Ireland, just not on the north side of the country.
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