Ireland: The End

Before I knew it it was time to go home.

I don't remember much of what went on that last Saturday, but I don't think it was very much. Packing, organizing, that sort of thing. Nothing exciting. And we all went to bed early since my flight was leaving Sunday morning, and it was a long drive to the airport, and we had to be there well in advance of my departure time.

I made it home without incident. The Atlantic was almost solidly cloudy along our entire route. Newark airport security was chaotic - arriving passengers had to claim our bags, go through Customs, re-check our bags, go back through a verrry slow security checkpoint, and then run across the airport to our connecting flights. All this with a carry-on bag that was dangerously overloaded with duty-free bath salts and a liter of Paddy whiskey.

Clouds on the way from Newark to BWI

I made it as far as baggage claim at BWI before my carry-on finally gave way - one of the D-ring connectors untwisted itself, rendering the shoulder strap useless.

I was the only passenger on my shuttle bus, which was driven by a Vietnam vet who currently does two weeks of medical missionary work each year in Ghana. He updated me on some of the events that had transpired in the three weeks since I had left the U.S. - mainly the dissolution of Iraq into outright civil war.

I got to my sister's house and couldn't find my car. I eventually located it in a side lot. I had a hard time getting the engine to turn over - it had been nearly a week since my sister had had it on the road, and once I got the car moving I quickly learned why: one of the rear tires was making a thwap-thwap-thwap noise. Feeling around the tire I couldn't locate anything that could have been responsible for the noise - maybe a stick had gotten caught in the wheel? - but I discovered that the left rear tire was very unevenly worn. So already a new expense was presenting itself to me.

I made it back to Nanticoke that night - a very dumb thing for me to do - and found Ashes weak and thin, but still alive. And he is still alive, on the bed behind me as I write this, three weeks after I returned home.

I miss some things about Ireland. I miss my friends, mainly. But I miss a few other things.

I miss Irish television. Sure, it's vapid and stupid and most shows are poorly-produced, but how does that compare to U.S. television, which is vapid and stupid and slickly produced? At least it felt more honest - or, when it was not being honest, the lack of honesty was at least blatantly obvious.
I miss The Podge and Rodge Show. This is a bizarre late-night show featuring two foul-mouthed anti-social puppets who interview figures from pop culture. (A typical quote: "Not that anybody gives a f*ck, but when is your new CD coming out?" Yes, the F-bomb is dropped reularly on The Podge and Rodge Show, at a fraction of the frequency you will hear it in everyday conversation.) It was good for a late-night laugh, and is the sort of thing you will never, ever see on U.S. broadcast TV.

I miss the cars. There were a lot fewer behemoths in everyday use, partly because gas is much more expensive over there - about twice what we pay for it. As long as fuel is so cheap in the U.S., we can expect the roads and highways to be clogged with oversized gas-guzzling cars and SUVs.

I'm happy to be home. There are some things about Ireland that were too quaint and laid-back for me. Still, there's a lot that I miss over there. I'm glad I got to visit one more time.