Failte

I think my title is Gaelic for welcome, minus some accents. I arrived in Dublin last night after my penultimate flight on Ryan Air. It was also my first flight with this airline. I remember the good ole days of flying when we rode 1st class since my dad worked as a radio technician for Braniff Airlines. Mom would dress up in her Jackie Kennedy finest, my brother and in Sunday best. It’s a big comedown to flying now. Ryan Air brings it all down to a new low that SouthWest can only dream about. I’ve actually ridden more luxurious Greyhound busses. A boxing club boarded the plane with their gear packed in  bags too big for the overhead bin. Getting them settled was a bit like traveling with the Clampetts, only more pugilistic. The flight felt like riding home from a youth rally in the church van. No backseat pockets, meaning no barf bags. Presumably one pays extra for the privilege of hurling into a bag. And here’s the worst. You walk outside and climb stairs to get inside the plane. Could be the design of the airports, though. 

Here’s a travel tip. Get local currency before leaving the airport.

I prepaid round trip tickets on the airport to Dublin shuttle. As I boarded I asked the driver which stop to get to my hotel. He clearly said, “The 9th” and mumbled a street name. I carefully counted out the stops and got off at the 9th. One too many. I ended up asking a woman working at a restaurant how to get to the hotel. She had me make ta transaction with my debit card to get 50 Euros and she hailed a cab for me. I saw an ATM on the street, with a roller bag felt like I would be setting myself up as a target. Hence the tip.

Next post will have photos.

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