Day, uh, Friday.

Where were we?  Dublin, right. By now I have a cough that is reminiscent of Doc Holliday in Wyatt Erp, which is real sexy on a lady. Nobody thinks TB when they see me, though, they think swine flu. Or at least Sports Fan does and is constantly reminding me that we could be QUARANTINED in this God-forsaken country if I don’t quell my damned cough. Like I can help it.

We take the longest cab ride in history, with me stifling my cough so much I think my eyes are going to bug the f’out, with this dude as our cab driver. Or at least he looks like this dude. And he smelled like a sack of garbage.

And what does he do? Crack the window. Not because he smells like a bag of shit. No, because I have a cough. Anyway, we reach our hotel and it looks bad from the outside. The website promised a “fully remodeled interior” that is completely modern. And by that I assume they meant that we didn’t have to use outhouses, because when I see THIS, the first word that comes to mind is NOT MODERN.

Now a 1950’s hairdryer wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened on the trip, of course, but cleanliness is a high priority. So when we saw the mold and mildew in the shower and scummy bathtub floor, we knew that other accommodations would have to be arranged.

Gross, huh? I have more pictures, but you get the idea. Bottom line: I was not getting in that shower.  The issue? Dublin was a madhouse with U2 in town. It took some wrangling, but we found another hotel and checked in there before we checked out of this craphole.  Of course, they gave us a problem, necessitating repeated calls to the hotel (let’s call it the SchmO’Schmallaghan Schmavenport) and to a certain online booking agency (let’s call them Schmexpedia.) So I was charged two nights at the dump.

Oh, and remember how on Day 1 I thought that I had booked until Monday night and pushed back our return flight until Tuesday morning?  I was wrong. Guess who’s the schmoebagel now.

Anyway, we got to walk around Dublin that night, drank some Guinness and ate some really lousy food. We were staying by Merrion Sq. Park and it was really easy to get around once you sort of made your own grid in your head.

Saturday

We did most of our Dublin sight-seeing, checking out the churches (Christ Church and St. Patrick’s Cathedral), which were lovely and church-y. Honestly, though, St. Patrick’s in New York is much prettier. Sorry. Another +1 for New York. I also almost choked to death on all the dust. I acutally had to leave before my coughing turned to involuntary puking-in-a-holy-place. I did get to check out the grave of Jonathan Swift and his two “lady friends.” He had two girlfriends that he was obviously shacking up with, never married either, but the church let him be buried with them.  Henry the VIII must have rolled over in his grave. All he wanted was a divorce! (Photos here.)

We also met up with the guy from Boston who bought our tickets for the show. Nice guy. Then we went and took a nap before we saw U2. We’re ancient. (I wasn’t even 30 yet.) And I called to check on my luggage a billion more times.

The show!

What can I say, U2 is awesome. Ireland in the summer doesn’t get dark until after 9:30pm, so it was daylight for a lot of the show. They played maybe 5 songs from the new album, which was to be expected. What I didn’t expect was how good Bono sounded. It was early in the tour so he still had his chops. Some songs he relies on the audience heavily, like With or Without You, but they still know how to put on a show.

Here is a link to the setlist if you are interested.  Angel in Harlem is one of my very favorites. I was particularly glad they played that song.