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Meridyth and Mark wanted to leave a little on the early side, which they could do since both of them didn't have jobs. Since I was the working stiff I took the 'A' train around 4ish from the World Trade Centers (12 days before the event). Having done the journey before it was much easier this time, and checking in at the airport was amazingly easy (also unfortunately probably for the last time in the forseeable future). We had over an hour to kill since we were so early so we decided to go to one of the upscale bars in the terminal and take a look at Meridyth's scrapbook for Simon. It was actually a pretty good job and I was impressed - shame we can't put it online to gawk at, so many memories! Anyway, time for the flight which was pretty damned crowded. As usual I didn't sleep a wink, and we got to the rustic Dublin airport around 7am. Of course Meridyth was on a different flight which was delayed, so Mark and I found ourselves a nice perch overlooking the terminal below us. That morning Silent Mark took giant steps from being a Mockery Boy to a Mockery Man, stepping up to the big leagues with some nice observations at the expense of several people queuing up below us.
Eventually Meridyth did arrive and we caught the bus to the city center about a mile from our hotel. As soon as we got to our hotel I knew we'd done well based on my previous stay in Dublin as we were only a block or so from Temple Bar itself. The room itself was pleasantly large enough for 3 people, but since we weren't allowed to check in until 2pm we dumped our stuff and took a walk to the Quays, which is where we were meeting Simon. They weren't quite open so we followed our guide's suggestion to 'Mulligans', which apparently has the best pint of Guinness outside the brewery, thus making it the second best pint in the World. We weren't disappointed either. The difference in the Guinness could be spotted by watching the pint froth and feed on itself, taking literally minutes to settle down to liquid gold. We talked with a couple of locals and actually had a couple come with us to the Quays. Unfortunately they didn't know who Roger was because of the turnover there but they had heard of Robbie - I did catch a brief glimpse of him but before I got up he was gone. We had a couple of hours to kill before Simon showed up, eventually joined by his posse. We also added to our group two ladies who were visiting their Irish routes from Boston, Tammy and her mother Pam.
Unlike the others I've learned the value of a nap on one of these long haul weekends so I ditched everyone around 5 to get a quality 2 hours of sleep. We met for dinner at a Cajun place a couple of blocks away. The liquor was certainly flowing freely and the food was decent. Simon was uncharacteristically drunk early, so after a quick unproductive visit to Temple Bar followed by another bar (I think 'Danger Doyles') he was out. So were the rest of the posse except for myself, Mark, Meridyth, Tammy and Pam. Meridyth was after the next pub so went across the corner to Fitzsimmons. Upstairs wasn't too bad but there was a nightclub downstairs so we decided to cut the rug for a couple of hours. Being the decent men we are (and because Mark was hankering for a Kebab) we walked the ladies home to their hotel room before hitting the sack around 4am.
Saturday we were awakened to the sounds of Meridyth doing morning stuff including ironing her scarf with a ridiculously loud iron (honestly, I know I'm not sartorial boy but ironing a scarf??? Women <headshake>). This was the first of several misses of the traditional Irish fry-up breakfast that I was lusting after and never got. We'd agreed to meet Simon and Steve (Simon's brother) at the 'All Sports Cafe', which is where Jimmy, Malone & I had succesfully killed several hours watching Rugby on our previous Dublin tour. Apart from the number of TV's around, it also had the advantage of being less than a mile away from where we were staying right in Temple Bar. Since it was already midday we decided to just head right over, and sure enough the boys joined us earlier than we'd expected. The Ireland game wasn't until 2:30 so we got to relax with our pints and mediocre generic food. The place is actually quite an impressive Sports bar, with a lot of memorabilia all over the walls (of course, how authentic they are is anybody's guess). There was a surprising amount of American Sports goods all over the place including signed shirts from Cal Ripken and Mickey Mantle, I guess to satisfy all those americans coming over to find their roots.
Finally, the first game. Almost immediately the Irish were under pressure by the immensely talented Dutch. The atmosphere was surprisingly muted, partly because we were at a big table upstairs with the real bar being downstairs. However I think its because this was a real pressure game, and all the hundreds of dutch we'd seen at the airport and around town were all at the game. We were rooting for the Irish, so with their goal under constant siege by the ever unreliable Kluivert and emerging superstar Van Nistelrooy it didn't look good. Kluivert had his usual share of blatant misses, but with his 10% scoring ratio it looked like he was going to knock one in in spite of himself. Of course, the luck of the Irish reared its head as much against the run of play Jason McAteer (ex-Liverpool my son!) came in to smack one home and steal a famous victory. The almost unthinkable had happened as the Dutch were now virtually eliminated from the World Cup finals, depriving it of luminaries such as those mentioned along with Bergkamp (assuming he found himself a boat to get there in time), Davids (depending upon the drug testing) and the De Boers.
The Undercard was over, now time for The Title Fight. In the Green Corner, the ever present powerhouse leading the group and virtually invincible at home, Germany. In the Red White & Blue corner, the always-threatening-but-never-quite-fulfilling-their-promise English, second in the group and distinct Underdogs. Of course, the uphill battle looked like a mountain with the early German goal caused by bumbling hesitancy by the defence and goalie to allow the germans to shoot one in, much to the curious delight of the Irish around us and the chagrin of the many English supporters at the All Sports Cafe. Fortunately we didn't have long to wait before my protege Owen took a sweetly taken hip high cross body shot to level the score. The rest of the half was tense before we stuck the dagger in by a marvelously hit goal by Gerrard. The second half was the sweetest half I'd seen England play since the 3-0 drubbing of Poland in 1986 (seeing as I'd missed virtually all the '90's in the football desert that was the U.S.A before the Fox Sports Messiah saved me). The fact that the three second half goals were all scored by Liverpool players made it all the sweeter.
Now that the game was over we thought it was time to leave, since 9 hours at a sports bar is something even I find taxing, especially with so many bars to sample. For dinner we decided to follow Claire's recommendation of Wagamama, which turned out to have an excellent fusion of Asian cusines. We then went off to meet some of Kelly's Irish friends (naturally all married or engaged) at an Irish Lounge before they had the audacity to kick us out at only 2am on a saturday! We were now in the hunt for a place we could keep going, found one that was fairly quiet, left that and weaseled our way into the Spy Bar which was definitely on its last legs. The girls still wanted to go out and dragged me and Silent Mark out to the 'Reunion' Bar. It wasn't all lost because I managed to get a lighter out of the deal (although a box of matches for my collection would have been preferred). I stopped with Mark/Meridyth at a Kebab bar while they got some recommended greasy food (I couldn't partake as I'm trying to keep my girlish figure). Lucky for me, turned out the food was uniformly awful. Another day, another 4am stopping point.
Sunday, day of rest (please!). Once again,
no irish fry up for us. We decided to walk to the boathouse pub to
meet the others only to find out just how far it was from us (told you
we had a great location). They were only serving a buffet style of
food which looked very unappetising so we had to let a couple of beers
and packets of crisps suffice. Unfortunately the English crowd were
going back that day so we all said goodbye after a relaxing time reading
the newspapers and having a couple of quiet pints. At least on the
way back we got to spy out some good Indian places for dinner that night.
We got Simon situated in his new hotel at Temple Bar, got to watch the
hurling semifinal at the bar right next to Boomerang then dumped Meridyth
to go get a nap. She got drunk on her own and came back to irritate
us into getting up and going over to see Simon. The agenda for the
night was Indian food
Mainly pictures of Friday/Sunday - courtesy Meridyth Park, as is the commentary (I claim no responsibility)