The Dublin Thing.

Dublin

So I’m busying myself around the house working on various projects: editing video for Earl’s workplace, editing music for Greg and the Connecticut Gay Men’s Chorus, tweaking computers, playing with wires.

As I busy myself around the basement I have a streaming radio station on courtesy of LiveIreland.com. I’m listening to Channel 2, which is contemporary music from Irish artists. LiveIreland.com broadcasts live from Dublin City along the River Liffey.

Listening to the music, the talk of Dublin and the delicious accent easily transports me to our all-too brief (but overwhelmingly enjoyable) trip there last October. I can almost feel the energy of the city. The key word is “almost”.

During my rant the other day I mentioned that few understand my desire to move to Dublin, as I’ve only spent 48 hours in the city (out of seven days in the Republic of Ireland) and have only seen the city through the eyes of a tourist. Since that trip in October, I’ve done a huge amount of reading on Ireland and nothing that I’ve read has deterred my feelings on the subject. Practicality tells me it’s a dream.

It’s a good thing that I believe in dreams. In the meantime, technology allows me to experience the city from afar.

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After Hours.

Being back in the swing of weekly DJ gigs again, after a successful night last night Earl and I decided to head to our local Denny’s after the bar closed last night for a quick bite to eat. Most areas of the northeast have a wide selection of all-night diners, here we only have Denny’s as the locally owned diners are only open until 8 p.m. at the very latest. Even our IHOP closes at 11.

This area is a disappointment to diner fans worldwide.

Earl reminded me that I had been to the local Denny’s once before for after hours, as I had insisted on eating breakfast after hanging out with friends at the bar. Quite frankly I don’t remember much of the experience as I was under the influence of alcohol at the time. No worries, he was driving during that excursion. My mandatory breakfast consisted of a chicken sandwich and french fries. Because of my minimal memories of that experience, I was not aware of what our Denny’s is like after hours.

It’s a mess.

They have bouncers/fake security guards at the entrances and at the restroom doors. These thugabes (tough guy wannabes, I just made that up) are there to help keep the drunks under control and the food fights contained. They’re also there to assure that everyone pays for their meal before leaving.

They’re failing miserably on that last point. Two liquored up parties left the diner without paying during the 45 minutes that Earl and I were there. The resulted in shouting from the hostess who was also cooking and the waitress who apparently had to pay for their food even though the thugabes weren’t doing their job and the hostess, who also collects the money, was cooking. One of the ladies from the liquored up party fell into my lap on her way out. I set her upright and pushed her in the right direction.

Our service was pretty good. Earl and I sat for no more than five minutes before we had our drinks and our orders submitted to the harried server. Since we try to fit as many calories as possible into the wee-hours of dining, our appetizer of chicken strips was out within five minutes of our request. This prompted one of the lesbians from a nearby table (I know she was a lesbian because she was making out with her girlfriend earlier in the evening) to come over to our table and glare at us for eating. She stood at the table and looked like she was ready to pounce. I didn’t offer her any food. Apparently they had been waiting quite a while for their food. This prompted more shouting behind the counter. The customers were yelling at the servers who were yelling at the hostess that was cooking while the thugabes talked on their cell phones while another customer escaped with an unpaid check.

All in all, the harried server was doing her best, the food was mediocre and the experience was frightful.

Next time I’ll be sure to be drunk.