8:00a

My flight arrived in Dublin just before 5:00a. After I had my little internal celebratory moment of, "I'm f***ing in Ireland!!!" I climbed down from the high of finally visiting a different country and anxiously waited for the Irish security to let me the hell into their country... Within minutes, Mike (my flight buddy) and I made our way safely through security and to the city centre. I must mention, though... The security guard asked me, "Do you have any friends in Ireland?" I said no and he responded, "No worries, you'll make a few," and smiled. Flippin' awesome guy. Cannot wait to make these friends he spoke of.

Mike was a fantastic human to sit next to during the flight. We talked about work, school, our families, and other small talk which grew into fun, sarcastic remarks about Irish security. Mike has dual citizenship and mentioned having visited Ireland several times within the past several years. Chatting with him was refreshing and made the flight a quick ride. He also paid for the cab! Thanks, Mike!

8:00a... After Mike left for his hotel, I wondered over to mine, mouth hanging open and gawking at the majestic architecture. On the way, I noticed that most of the food businesses open at 8:00a. In Chicago and New York City, most of those places open before the ass crack of dawn . When I arrived at the hotel to drop my luggage off, the desk clerk said that places open at 8:00a so people have enough time to recover from their hangovers before going to work. Sometimes I think that Americans wake up way too early. As I hiked around Dublin (the brick streets can be brutal) between 5 and 6 in the morning, I saw many people stumbling around as if the whole city were still chugging down pint after pint. Love it. 

The hotel I'm staying at has such generous and kind employees. Check-in is at 2:00p but the clerk and one of the kitchen staff invited me to relax in the lounge and join everyone for breakfast at 8! After breakfast, I think that a stroll to visit the home of Oscar Wilde is in order. 

View from my seat just before landing

O'Connell Street

Mike!

Castle Hotel

2 more days!

I better not forget this lovely little book. 

I really want to see a dragon when I go to Scotland.

Oh, the things I'll do!

Here's the thing: visions of the places I get to explore keep passing through my head and I suddenly want them all.

I want to find field and walk around pretending I'm traveling through the Shire.
I want to sit at a dark wooden table and enjoy an Irish band playing in the corner of the room.
I want to glue my face to the scenery as I ride the train northbound to Scotland.
I want to introduce myself to a dozen locals. Per day!
I want to sit on a bank with my feet dangling in the river like Mr. Toad of Toad Hall while eating a sandwich.
I want to look up in the English sky and squint hard enough to see a dragon.
I want to sit in bed and think, "Hell yeah, I'm frickin' in Ireland."
I want to make a friend for the day and explore Chinatown in London with them.
I want my nose and taste buds to experience real coffee.
I want to make a hilarious face at the Queen's Guards and watch them do nothing.
I want to walk by where Shakespeare produced his plays.
I want to see thousands of picture-worthy moments.

And I want this trip to one day be a great bedtime story for my kids.

Additionally, I want to safely come back home.