In the cab leaving Dublin for the airport you'll have the obligatory trip rundown with your cabbie. Getting
chummy with your fare is a common rule of thumb for drivers. Make the customer like you as a person and
they'll be less inclined to stiff you come reckoning time. The racap is the easiest method for this. It's sortof a
reverse itinerary. He'll ask if you saw the Guinness Factory. You'll describe the mixed bag that is a hostel, but,
all in all, your Scottish roommates were pretty cool. You won't tell him that the first meal you had in Dublin was
from Subway, instead you'll mention it took longer than you'd expected to find a place that served shepherd's
pie a day later.
You'll mention how the town felt smaller than you imagined. Then you'll talk about the night you spent in the
Temple Bar region. For starters, you'll mention how nice the people are bringing up a Scottish guy whose seat
you may or may not have stolen who kept boasting about his Charlie Sheen resemblance. There's also that
slight expression of guilt you get when you mention the Finnish woman who knew, like, 4 languages reminding
you of the saying If you know more than two languages, you're multilingual. If you know two languages, you're
bilingual. If you know one language, you're American. But, hey, Ireland speaks English, and while that ain't
exactly the reason you chose to hit up the island, it didn't dissuade you from showing up either.
Of course when you get in the cab, the driver surely noticed that you were with two girls. Attractive American
girls get attention. Attractive girls get attention. Their gender isn't directly important to your trip's best anecdote,
but on some level, subtlely it helps. You'll explain that you went to one pub to get a beer, but to best see the
city, you figured you'd grab your next pint somewhere else. You'll explain that you walked down the street in an
unofficial triangular formation with you and a girl in front and the other girl slowly trailing you. You and the girl
you're with spotted some throwup in all of its pink chunk glory and steered clear of it. You don't say anything to
the trailer because, well it's pink and you didn't have trouble seeing it. She's shorter anyway, so logic would
think that it was closer to her eye level. Only she didn't see it. She slipped. Not like she took a misstep, either.
No, it's more like a cartoon character slipping on a banana type situation where her feet fly up and her rump
lands first kind of thing.
Well she wasn't all that pleased with herself. Did I mention the chunks? You react in that general aww schucks
that was awfully funny, but I hope your tutkis is alright kind of way. The girl you were with, however, burst out
laughing. She pointed, she keeled over. Hysterics. Until...not. She grew the same look that the puke-chick had
but still on her feet and clear of the hurl. When she had only your attention she confided that she had just let
go. Peed herself.
It was decided. Time to go. No time for another bar. The hostel wasn't exactly close and the half a mile walk was
funny and mortifying all wrapped up into a neat little package. Here you are in the country representing the
ethnicity of all four of your grandparents. One of them, your grandfather on your mom's side, was even born on
the Emerald Isle. This, the land of James Joyce and, umm, Liam Neeson, and you're walking around with girls
with bodily fluids strung about, sometimes their own, sometimes somebody else's, and always pretty fricken'
gross..
Cabbies are wise. They've seen it all. Uniquely, they see their city's through the eyes of a local and the tourists
they transport. Our cabbie takes our story in and says, "Well, you haven't been to Dublin until you've fallen in
somebody else's throw up."
chummy with your fare is a common rule of thumb for drivers. Make the customer like you as a person and
they'll be less inclined to stiff you come reckoning time. The racap is the easiest method for this. It's sortof a
reverse itinerary. He'll ask if you saw the Guinness Factory. You'll describe the mixed bag that is a hostel, but,
all in all, your Scottish roommates were pretty cool. You won't tell him that the first meal you had in Dublin was
from Subway, instead you'll mention it took longer than you'd expected to find a place that served shepherd's
pie a day later.
You'll mention how the town felt smaller than you imagined. Then you'll talk about the night you spent in the
Temple Bar region. For starters, you'll mention how nice the people are bringing up a Scottish guy whose seat
you may or may not have stolen who kept boasting about his Charlie Sheen resemblance. There's also that
slight expression of guilt you get when you mention the Finnish woman who knew, like, 4 languages reminding
you of the saying If you know more than two languages, you're multilingual. If you know two languages, you're
bilingual. If you know one language, you're American. But, hey, Ireland speaks English, and while that ain't
exactly the reason you chose to hit up the island, it didn't dissuade you from showing up either.
Of course when you get in the cab, the driver surely noticed that you were with two girls. Attractive American
girls get attention. Attractive girls get attention. Their gender isn't directly important to your trip's best anecdote,
but on some level, subtlely it helps. You'll explain that you went to one pub to get a beer, but to best see the
city, you figured you'd grab your next pint somewhere else. You'll explain that you walked down the street in an
unofficial triangular formation with you and a girl in front and the other girl slowly trailing you. You and the girl
you're with spotted some throwup in all of its pink chunk glory and steered clear of it. You don't say anything to
the trailer because, well it's pink and you didn't have trouble seeing it. She's shorter anyway, so logic would
think that it was closer to her eye level. Only she didn't see it. She slipped. Not like she took a misstep, either.
No, it's more like a cartoon character slipping on a banana type situation where her feet fly up and her rump
lands first kind of thing.
Well she wasn't all that pleased with herself. Did I mention the chunks? You react in that general aww schucks
that was awfully funny, but I hope your tutkis is alright kind of way. The girl you were with, however, burst out
laughing. She pointed, she keeled over. Hysterics. Until...not. She grew the same look that the puke-chick had
but still on her feet and clear of the hurl. When she had only your attention she confided that she had just let
go. Peed herself.
It was decided. Time to go. No time for another bar. The hostel wasn't exactly close and the half a mile walk was
funny and mortifying all wrapped up into a neat little package. Here you are in the country representing the
ethnicity of all four of your grandparents. One of them, your grandfather on your mom's side, was even born on
the Emerald Isle. This, the land of James Joyce and, umm, Liam Neeson, and you're walking around with girls
with bodily fluids strung about, sometimes their own, sometimes somebody else's, and always pretty fricken'
gross..
Cabbies are wise. They've seen it all. Uniquely, they see their city's through the eyes of a local and the tourists
they transport. Our cabbie takes our story in and says, "Well, you haven't been to Dublin until you've fallen in
somebody else's throw up."
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somebodyisfromhere.com
The destination destination.
Chapter one: Europe.
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Editor's Note: Somebodyisfromhere.com has recently dedicated a lot of thought to the idea of creating a narrative for his site. He likes his
individual pieces, but he wanted to find a way to string together a series of articles for those who were new to the site or for those who wanted to
explore a bit more thoroughly. Sure, the search option in the top corner of the front page works. Sure, he also tries to link old stories with
comparable new ones. Atop the first page, he created sections like entertainment, photos, etc. It's all golden. Yet, Somebodyisfromhere.com is
inexhaustible and he wanted more. So he came up with the "In Between Cabs..." section. Somebodyisfromhere.com has been in his share of
cabs. He's been in Mercedes cabs in Europe. He's been in those charming British boxes. He's been in the old yellows. He's been in cabs in
foreign countries where it's fairly standard to have to write down the address or otherwise you'll end up somewhere disastrously far off. More than
anything else, he just has some pretty bleepin' weird cab stores and, most importantly, he recognizes traveling is what happens in between cabs.
individual pieces, but he wanted to find a way to string together a series of articles for those who were new to the site or for those who wanted to
explore a bit more thoroughly. Sure, the search option in the top corner of the front page works. Sure, he also tries to link old stories with
comparable new ones. Atop the first page, he created sections like entertainment, photos, etc. It's all golden. Yet, Somebodyisfromhere.com is
inexhaustible and he wanted more. So he came up with the "In Between Cabs..." section. Somebodyisfromhere.com has been in his share of
cabs. He's been in Mercedes cabs in Europe. He's been in those charming British boxes. He's been in the old yellows. He's been in cabs in
foreign countries where it's fairly standard to have to write down the address or otherwise you'll end up somewhere disastrously far off. More than
anything else, he just has some pretty bleepin' weird cab stores and, most importantly, he recognizes traveling is what happens in between cabs.