The most inappropriate ending to a wonderfully smooth, well-organized and delightful trip. Katie and I somehow managed to book and miss the exact same flight home, not because we stayed out too late saying goodbye to Ireland, but because we tried to board a plane that didn’t exist. Well, technically, it did exist, but not at the airport that we were at. We both miraculously booked departing flights out of Shannon Airport instead of Dublin, a good 5 hours south from our residence at Trinity College.
After several hours of crying, disbelief, adrenaline pumping through our blood, anger, pleading with airline employees and many trips to and from the pay phones and internet booths, we finally accepted that there was no way we were getting a flight home Friday. We booked a 70 euro hotel room near the airport and decided to call it a day, spending the rest of the night searching for plane tickets and ordering wine in the lobby. Later that night came both great and frustrating news: tickets had been purchased for our return home, and they were much cheaper tickets than we were originally able to find. However, these tickets were also for Sunday, leaving us with another 30 hours to kill in Dublin. I could feel my heart sink into my stomach. I wasn’t upset because I necessarily wanted to leave Ireland (in fact, part of me thinks that I brought this upon myself because I had been complaining so much about not being ready to leave yet) but being trapped against one’s will, without money and snippy receptionists was not an ideal extended vacation. Accidentally purchasing a 474 euro ticket from Boston to Washington D.C. under the pretext that we would be able to find a flight to Boston did not help this sinking pit feeling. And neither did the 25 minutes I had to spend on a payphone with Bank of America in order to get my credit card re-authorized to purchase tickets home.
Fast forward 2 days, and Katie and I can hardly believe what this weekend has been. As we sit with our feet stretched out on the foot rests in front of us, eat our cheese lasagna and seafood stew, watch our individual tvs that pull up out of the arm rest, my faith has been temporarily restored in the karma of the universe. By some twist of fate the airline chose four lucky economy passengers (I believe ones that just recently purchased, and therefore spent a good deal of money on their tickets) to be moved to first or “business class.” I realize this is not an uncommon occurrence, but its never happened to me before, so I’m allowed to be a little obnoxious. And after our ordeal at the Dublin airport this weekend, Katie and I could not contain our excitement. As we work the next few months to try and repay our parents the debt we’ve acquired, I think we will always look back on Ireland as an adventure that ended with an especially overwhelming, albeit memorable, exploit. Ireland never failed to keep up on our toes and helped us grow until the moment our feet left it’s soil.
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