Guest Spot

This story came from my uncle about one of his trips to Europe. I like it so much I want to share:

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My first night in Dublin, January, 1979, a wonderful soul on the ferry dropped me at a B&B. It turned out to be a warm, comfortable place. I was so grateful to have this, after a terrible B&B experience in London. (Hypothermia was not out of the question.)

Once settled, I ventured out to find the neighborhood pub. I wanted a real Guinness. I read somewhere to stay silent in an Irish pub until a local broke the conversation, so I followed that advice.

I nursed my real Guinness (too warm, of course) until a trilogy of locals found me. We began a conversation. It is one of the few times in my life where my wits kept up with my wishes.

The locals started to talk about the U.S. “Where are you from?” My standard answer was Chicago. (The Europeans failed to understand how large our geography is, so Chicago was my fallback.) Thirty years ago, I usually received the sound of machine guns, simulating the Warner Brother films.

Then we had to go through the John Wayne “Quiet Man” story and sometimes the J. F. Kennedy visit.

The next question took me by surprise. “What is the great American dream?” I immediately responded, “To visit Europe, of course.” The trio went silent. This may have been the brightest moment in my life.

WHM