What Shall We Do With the Drunken Sailor?

Anascaul and Killarney, County Kerry

Republic of Ireland

Captain's Log
Stardate: 31.07.2007

Our party happened upon a town in between Galway and Killarney, known by locals and visitors alike as Anascaul. Now, Anascaul is famous for two things. Actually, to say that Anascaul is famous for anything is a bit of a stretch. But if it were famous, it would be famous for the fact that, in a region of only 600 people, the main (and only) street of Anascaul boasts six pubs. It might also be famous for its bright green pub, The Randy Leprechaun.

Having dropped in - all the way from Australia, mind - at local boy Paul's 21st to wish him a happy birthday, our 6-pub voyage continued up the road. Here, I met Billy - a fisherman from Belfast. Billy was drunk; this was immediately apparent. He had travelled to the South, so far as I could tell, to see how shite it was.

"See, the South is pretty much a Third World country, like. It's just shit. I love Australia though - it's great. Southern Ireland is just a joke."

I was curious. Why, then, was he here?

"Likeforexample," he slurred. "They don't even have air conditioning."

My house doesn't have aircon. Is my house a Third World country?

"No-but, they're just backwards is all. It's shit. It's honestly shit. They just settle for whatever."

I wasn't in the mood to argue with an incoherent man, and honestly I really wanted him to walk away so I could go back to my conversation. So I changed the subject and told him that my dad invented Vegemite Pop-Tarts. He thought this was great at first, but then he rounded on me.

"Mate. Don'be a wise-arse. That won' wash here, mate. Keep that up and I'll crack you in the face. I mean it. Serioushly, d'yawanme to punch your face in?"

"Go away," I thought.

But again, in no mood to mess with a large, drunk, Northern Irish man with a chip on his shoulder, I apologised, made my excuses, and left the pub.

I later saw Billy sitting alone in another watering-hole. He looked lonely, and I almost wanted to go and say hi. But that would have been stupid, so I didn't. Later, I saw him slumped, asleep, over the bar.

Let's Clean It Up

London, England

UK

07.07.07
Live Earth, accross 5 continents. My location: London. After my initial disappointment of missing out on Live Earth tix for London, in the late round I was allocated tickets. So, having changed my NY-London flight to the 6th (it was supposed to be two weeks earlier, but I loved the States so I wanted more time there), I arrived in the country less than 24 hours before the concert.

It was 8pm on the 6th when I arrived at Heathrow, expecting the worst from immigration. I'd heard horror stories of suspicious-looking characters such as myself being detained and questioned for up to half an hour before (sometimes) being let into the country. Expecting the worst, I presented my passport:

"What's the purpose of your visit?"
"Travel."
"When are you leaving?"
"September."
"In you go then."

It's times like those when I regret not buying a "THAT WAS EASY" button from Staples while I was in the US.

So, off to bed (thanks Oli and Kaisa) and up again next day for Live Earth. Our seats were good, but I wanted more. I wanted to be down amongst it in general admission. So I hatched a cunning plan to deceive the field marshalls, involving costume changes, hiding in tunnels and general double-crossing. I executed my plan down to a tee, twice.

Later in the day, Oli just strolled in, without any such shennanigans. I maintain that it was worthwhile.

So, on the field, and we're soaking up a bit of Bloc Party, some Chilli Peppers, some Damien Rice, all of the Pussycat Dolls, and of course Madonna. Standing beside us (us, by now, refers to our expanded party of four, with the addition of Nads and Eleni) are a lovely Mexican couple. Now, I'm all for sharing the love, and by all means go for a bit of the old PDA. They did. Good on them. But things started to get a bit hot and heavy, and, I'll be honest, to the point of being uncomfortable for the unsuspecting bystander. But I kept quiet.

Nads did not. She'd noticed that there was a little bit more than heavy petting going on, and it was time to step in. Which she did. When MexicanMan approached to 'calm' her. Ew.

It's time to go: Mexicans. They didn't.

The rest of the concert was good fun all the same. The whole thing was a little disjointed - although a definite highlight was a video which consisted mostly of a shopkeeper and an elderly woman slapping one another.

Excuse me now while I save the planet.