not-that-innocent, not-that-abroad-anymore

i’m writing this on an airplane. i was going to work on a piece for 02138, or some other ongoing writing project, but Lego Star Wars reared its cute, violent head some
hours ago and i haven’t looked back since. darth vader manages to be adorable yet formidable, with a sick jump-attack move. all incarnations of natalie portman are bad at jumping. like, insanely bad. the blasters make noises like squirrel torture. this game is excellent.

here’s a naive question: if you have five security checkpoints in an airport, and each is no more rigorous than the last one, um, what’s going on there? aren’t you always going to catch your evildoers at the most stringent one, and then the others are just a waste of everyone’s time? here’s what i want: one security checkpoint, and there i wanted to be subjected to a brief but invasive full-body probe, and after that i want to be left alone for the rest of my airport experience. i don’t think this is an absurd request. only one person should get to peer skeptically at my passport and ask why it is furry. “it’s just pocket-dirt,” i have said five times already today, and i am losing my patience.

our last days in ireland were fun, but without the breathtaking your-ass-is-being-kicked wonderment of the aran islands. one day i will live there in seclusion, venturing back to the mainland only when i crave nachos.

we saw the cliffs of moher:

and believe this, bitches: shit got extremely subversive.

yeah!!! fuck you, authority. i did not attempt to disobey this sign, however:

there are a lot of great signs in ireland. here was one we found in galway and doolin:

what does this even mean? “drive your car off a cliff,” that’s what. even if you don’t read an imperative into it, it’s still, “sometimes cars drive off the cliff.” no stigma or warning is attached to this narrative. ireland, you need to cut this relativist bullshit out before i smack you upside the head.

in doolin, we heard some trad, and also we stayed at a hostel whose owner had an accent that he must have been making up. he sounded completely ridiculous. there was a late-middle-aged canadian couple chillaxing in the common room, and he kept asking them things like, “d’ye play the golf.”

“we—we do play the golf,” admitted the wife, grinning, enchanted by this magical display of quaintness. the hostel owner was also a very pungent human being. katherine characterized him thus: “he smells like he’s been wearing the same wool sweater for three days with nothing under it.” this is not an exaggeration, at all.

we spent our final day in ennis, the City That Tried To Ruin Our Entire Vacation. all in all, our vacation had been remarkably hassle-free. then ennis happened. the only hostel in town was undergoing renovations, and after trudging all across town, we were forced to settle on an expensive B&B. it was awful. i mean, the bed was soft and the breakfast was extensive and delicious, but i felt like a tool. believe this: i am mad street. just because i felt coerced into wearing a nice-looking sweater for breakfast does not mean i will hesitate in any way to cap you, should that become necessary. one of the conditions for me capping you: not having any skim milk for these cornflakes. i swear to god, this “fresh milk” shit is not right. it is not right.

extreme props to the ireland tourism board, in the end, for providing the following for our view from the airport.

unreal. a rainbow? are you kidding me, ireland? this vacation was outstanding. i have no regrets.