Sunday, July 16, 2017

This is Ireland #2

A Kilkenny Pub at 5 PM...

On my right, a shaved-bald man, his wife and daughter. The Man orders a pint, his wife a G&T; the little girl asks for a Club Orange. When the order arrives, the bald Dad picks up the register receipt and comments on the shocking price of Club Orange.

"Drink that slowly," he says as he swigs from the pint of Carlsberg.

A child with a straw turns into a sucking sinkhole when confronted with a sugary concoction. When I was a kid, the straws were the size of acupuncture needles and it didn't matter if you had lips like Louis Armstrong, a 7UP could easily last a whole weekend.

Opposite me, a nervous man with folded arms drinks a vodka and water. He covers one ear as if he's about to launch into Irish song. His companion, a large woman with silver hair, drinks an Irish coffee and whispers suggestively into his open ear. His expression never changes.

At the bar, three old men sipping their drinks, two of which are red wine. Red wine? What happened to pints of porter? When did we start allowing the elderly to sample the fruits of foreign vineyards? What are we trying to do?  Scare away the tourists.

before the Americans arrive, break out the Guinness, the tweed coats, and the battered hats. Hide the satellite telly. Somebody, for God's sake, start a fight.

No comments:

Post a Comment