564
17 August 2012
R. Linda:
Oh me achin' head! I be just back from a "reunion" of sorts with two of me friends from Ireland.
I got a message when I got to the office that two of me friends from the old sod were in town and wanted to spend some quality time with yours truly. It was a slow work day, so I decided to grace them with me company. I know, I know, Gabe is getting all full of himself, but listen here, I be the only one of the three of us has a steady job and that has to count for something. These two had spent their last euro to come for a holiday in Boston! Who does that? I'd think they'd be home looking for work, but no, no, they would rather socialise across the pond than do that. Well, who wouldn't?
They wanted to meet in a pub so I couldn't meet them in just any pub, I decided to meet them in one of Boston's best Irish pubs and that would be Flann O'Brien's down on Tremont Street in bad arse Roxbury, where the atmosphere can be (at times) much like walking between the Falls and Shankill section of Belfast. O'Brien's be named after that famous writer Flann O'Brien who was really Brian O'Nolan! But O'Brien was just ONE of his names, he had a few he did! No, he wasn't in a witness protection programme he used O'Brien as his non de plume. He wrote such novels as The Third Policeman, Faustus Kelly, and Dalkey Archive, to name a few of many. And why a pub named after him? Because it was near impossible to keep the man from his drink! Was he an alcoholic? You betcha! The best kind of Irish writer one could find, deep in his cups, cranking out enough modernist material to earn the label -- prolific when drunk.
Anyway, this was the place I chose and not because of Flann but because the pub itself be a welcoming place. There be a lot going on inside that would remind an expat of the old sod. When the patrons have enough jars of the substance that is "good for you" they get quite animated, and then the songfest begins and one can't help but join in. I tell ya the flavour of being back home abounds it does! Even the locals become mini-celebs the way they get you to join in and have a rowdy and rousing good time.
So I met me mates outside and was able to procure a booth where we ate, drank and reminisced in the decibel shattering (to rival Temple Bar in Dublin) atmosphere of a good time Irish style. We sat there drinking Guinness and pretty much shouting at each other over the pub din and it went like this:
"So Gabe ye been back to the old sod have ye?" Dalton asked.
"I have, I have, just back not long agoo."
"Ye said soomting about a tour?" O'Leary asked shaking his head in wonder.
"Oh yeah, me in-laws put us on a tour dey did. I can't complain we went places I'd never have."
"Ohhh, did ye goo on up ta Cong fer da Quiet Man ting? I new me friends went dere fer a weddin' at da castle an dey ended up at da pub in da village after all wus said an doon." Dalton said.
"Yeah I wus dere, I wus. At da place where da wife beatin' John Wayne dragged Maureen O'Hara around da grassy places showin er' wot fer."
They laughed, yes, they did. They knew, they'd seen that flick.
"Did da in-laws git dat we aren't a nation of wife beaters and horses arses as Hollywood makes us seem?" O Leary wanted to know.
"I tink so. But dey do tink most of us be like Dougal in Father Ted unfortunately. I did try to tell em we aren't (noon of us) dat stupid. But gees." To change the subject I asked, "So who be guardin' da Emerald Isle while you two be here?" I asked as a joke, but the two of them proved the Dougal thing with this answer:
"Well, if we hear England be invadin' fer more land we will fly on home an defend Irish soil!" This said with rousing aplomb by Dalton, who be a well built man in his mid thirties, a little scruffy looking, but he has a rare talent he does, he has magic fingers. I shouldn't tell you this, but at a young age his grandmother taught him to crochet and for years he made the best Irish doilies for the annual town festival of Queen of the May. But to look at him? You'd never guess.
And the other one, O'Leary, has a secret talent as well. He be a slim brown haired fella, clean shaven so there be quite the contrast between him and Dalton, but he has the unique talent of doing one mean Sharon Osbourne impression. I tell ya, when I first heard it I had to look around thinking Sharon had shook off Ozzy long enough to have a drink at Flann's. Yes, I had been sitting there with Dalton waiting for O'Leary to return from a bathroom break when in me ear I hear Sharon Osbourne whisper, "Gabriel, have you seen U2's live show? It's boring as hell. It's like watching CNN." I jumped I did. Imagine me surprise when I looked around to find O'Leary in me ear laughing. Who knew he was so in tune with his feminine side?
This brought a general conversation on Bono's not paying his Irish taxes and once again I was subject to a diss Bono session. I will tell you outright we Irish aren't happy with a compatriot who makes money hand over fist crediting his Irish roots with his success and then avoids paying his Irish taxes. I heard this on me last trip over and here it was again. I did mention that I be sure Sinead O'Connor pays HER taxes.
"So O'Leary," I said, "Ya still going to dose meetings fer da drink? Ya told me last time ye were in a rehab fer the drink an here ye be. Wots oop wit dat?"
"Ah Gabriel," he said with a semblance of sadness, "I be not an alcoholic it wus determined it wus. I be addicted to me Bewley's Tea I be, an so dey tole me ta git lost. Accused me of bein' dere ta pick up a lass or two." This last said with as much of an innocent look on his lying face as he could muster.
I sat there in wonder and I thought to meself that as silly as that sounded, I would wager that WAS the only reason he'd put himself in a rehab of any kind the dolt!
"Did he tell ya he's fed oop wit religion?" Dalton said lowering his voice so I could hardly hear him, as if the crowd around us would catch wind of this revelation and attack us.
"No, wits dis?" I said leaning in to hear what Dalton had to say on O'Leary's sudden departure from being a good Catholic.
"Here, let him tell ya," Dalton said pulling O'Leary almost across the table.
"Well," O'Leary said, "I wus in Dublin last St. Pats Day I wus, an I was surrounded outside a pub by dese Japanese tourists an dey were all yammering at me at once and I taught soomting wus da matter. But nuthin' wus, it wus dey wanted to have dere photo taken wit an authentic Irishman. Only da problem seemed I wusn't drunk. Dey wanted a drunk Irishman so dey wanted me to find one fer em'."
I sat there with me mouth hanging open. Really dude? What goods was O'Leary trying to sell me, but no, no, he went on with his fantastic tale.
"Sos, I tole em' I did, dat St. Pats Day wus not an excuse fer all Irishmen ta git drunk. An dey waved me explanation off like I wus lyin' ta dem bold face! It got ta where I wus lookin' around fer a fella in his cups but dere wus noone on da street but meself! So I started actin' da maggot and dey were luvin' it sayin' I wus a true Irishman cus I was "feisty." I wus wonderin' where dey got dat word frum. Sos I tried to git me away frum em' but dey followed me down the street snappin' pictures of me an dem shoutin' at me an me at dem and given da single finger salute. Imagine me surprise to find me face, finger, and backside plastered all over a Japanese photo page by someone named Oshi whose travel blog to Ireland be featuring me! I be labelled as da IRISH DRUNK dey met on a street corner. I came upon it just befur I left cus one of em' had handed me dere card and it took me until recent history ta look em' up. And wot did I find? ME! Three thumbnail pages of ME dat yer can click on one and it blows me image ta full page!"
"I tell ya!" Dalton shook his head in commiseration.
OK to say I was dumbfounded be an exaggeration. But I laughed I did, I couldn't help it because having a bit of a buzz and hearing this minutiae was just too much for me sodden brain to handle.
"So wot be da result of dis . . . dis . . . instant Internet stardom?" I pushed.
"Well, it caused me ta go down ta da city hall and complain dey need to ourtlaw St. Pats Day. But dey laughed at me dey did. I den went ta da local Catlick cateedral and put in me complaint dere, but dey accused me of bein' in me cups dey did. So in turn I tole em' I wish we'd kept our Druid religion. But dey pshawed me and tole me to go "dry out and den say a few Hail Mary's" dat God would forgive me me stupid ideas. It den dawned on me to go back ta city hall and petition we change the state religion to Druidism."
"And wot did dey say ta dat?" I asked really interested.
"Dey said da same ting, I should go dry out and say a few Hail Mary's.
Oh my God, I thought to meself, no wonder he can't find work. And there the other one sat shaking his head in agreement. I won't bore you with the rest of this madness, let it be enough to say, I shook me own head as I drove home that night thinking no one in their right mind would hire Dalton and O'Leary. Unless, they wanted to recast the part of Dougal on Father Ted, then there ya go, ya got two Dougals for the price of one!
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
17 August 2012
R. Linda:
Oh me achin' head! I be just back from a "reunion" of sorts with two of me friends from Ireland.
I got a message when I got to the office that two of me friends from the old sod were in town and wanted to spend some quality time with yours truly. It was a slow work day, so I decided to grace them with me company. I know, I know, Gabe is getting all full of himself, but listen here, I be the only one of the three of us has a steady job and that has to count for something. These two had spent their last euro to come for a holiday in Boston! Who does that? I'd think they'd be home looking for work, but no, no, they would rather socialise across the pond than do that. Well, who wouldn't?
They wanted to meet in a pub so I couldn't meet them in just any pub, I decided to meet them in one of Boston's best Irish pubs and that would be Flann O'Brien's down on Tremont Street in bad arse Roxbury, where the atmosphere can be (at times) much like walking between the Falls and Shankill section of Belfast. O'Brien's be named after that famous writer Flann O'Brien who was really Brian O'Nolan! But O'Brien was just ONE of his names, he had a few he did! No, he wasn't in a witness protection programme he used O'Brien as his non de plume. He wrote such novels as The Third Policeman, Faustus Kelly, and Dalkey Archive, to name a few of many. And why a pub named after him? Because it was near impossible to keep the man from his drink! Was he an alcoholic? You betcha! The best kind of Irish writer one could find, deep in his cups, cranking out enough modernist material to earn the label -- prolific when drunk.
Anyway, this was the place I chose and not because of Flann but because the pub itself be a welcoming place. There be a lot going on inside that would remind an expat of the old sod. When the patrons have enough jars of the substance that is "good for you" they get quite animated, and then the songfest begins and one can't help but join in. I tell ya the flavour of being back home abounds it does! Even the locals become mini-celebs the way they get you to join in and have a rowdy and rousing good time.
So I met me mates outside and was able to procure a booth where we ate, drank and reminisced in the decibel shattering (to rival Temple Bar in Dublin) atmosphere of a good time Irish style. We sat there drinking Guinness and pretty much shouting at each other over the pub din and it went like this:
"So Gabe ye been back to the old sod have ye?" Dalton asked.
"I have, I have, just back not long agoo."
"Ye said soomting about a tour?" O'Leary asked shaking his head in wonder.
"Oh yeah, me in-laws put us on a tour dey did. I can't complain we went places I'd never have."
"Ohhh, did ye goo on up ta Cong fer da Quiet Man ting? I new me friends went dere fer a weddin' at da castle an dey ended up at da pub in da village after all wus said an doon." Dalton said.
"Yeah I wus dere, I wus. At da place where da wife beatin' John Wayne dragged Maureen O'Hara around da grassy places showin er' wot fer."
They laughed, yes, they did. They knew, they'd seen that flick.
"Did da in-laws git dat we aren't a nation of wife beaters and horses arses as Hollywood makes us seem?" O Leary wanted to know.
"I tink so. But dey do tink most of us be like Dougal in Father Ted unfortunately. I did try to tell em we aren't (noon of us) dat stupid. But gees." To change the subject I asked, "So who be guardin' da Emerald Isle while you two be here?" I asked as a joke, but the two of them proved the Dougal thing with this answer:
"Well, if we hear England be invadin' fer more land we will fly on home an defend Irish soil!" This said with rousing aplomb by Dalton, who be a well built man in his mid thirties, a little scruffy looking, but he has a rare talent he does, he has magic fingers. I shouldn't tell you this, but at a young age his grandmother taught him to crochet and for years he made the best Irish doilies for the annual town festival of Queen of the May. But to look at him? You'd never guess.
And the other one, O'Leary, has a secret talent as well. He be a slim brown haired fella, clean shaven so there be quite the contrast between him and Dalton, but he has the unique talent of doing one mean Sharon Osbourne impression. I tell ya, when I first heard it I had to look around thinking Sharon had shook off Ozzy long enough to have a drink at Flann's. Yes, I had been sitting there with Dalton waiting for O'Leary to return from a bathroom break when in me ear I hear Sharon Osbourne whisper, "Gabriel, have you seen U2's live show? It's boring as hell. It's like watching CNN." I jumped I did. Imagine me surprise when I looked around to find O'Leary in me ear laughing. Who knew he was so in tune with his feminine side?
This brought a general conversation on Bono's not paying his Irish taxes and once again I was subject to a diss Bono session. I will tell you outright we Irish aren't happy with a compatriot who makes money hand over fist crediting his Irish roots with his success and then avoids paying his Irish taxes. I heard this on me last trip over and here it was again. I did mention that I be sure Sinead O'Connor pays HER taxes.
"So O'Leary," I said, "Ya still going to dose meetings fer da drink? Ya told me last time ye were in a rehab fer the drink an here ye be. Wots oop wit dat?"
"Ah Gabriel," he said with a semblance of sadness, "I be not an alcoholic it wus determined it wus. I be addicted to me Bewley's Tea I be, an so dey tole me ta git lost. Accused me of bein' dere ta pick up a lass or two." This last said with as much of an innocent look on his lying face as he could muster.
I sat there in wonder and I thought to meself that as silly as that sounded, I would wager that WAS the only reason he'd put himself in a rehab of any kind the dolt!
"Did he tell ya he's fed oop wit religion?" Dalton said lowering his voice so I could hardly hear him, as if the crowd around us would catch wind of this revelation and attack us.
"No, wits dis?" I said leaning in to hear what Dalton had to say on O'Leary's sudden departure from being a good Catholic.
"Here, let him tell ya," Dalton said pulling O'Leary almost across the table.
"Well," O'Leary said, "I wus in Dublin last St. Pats Day I wus, an I was surrounded outside a pub by dese Japanese tourists an dey were all yammering at me at once and I taught soomting wus da matter. But nuthin' wus, it wus dey wanted to have dere photo taken wit an authentic Irishman. Only da problem seemed I wusn't drunk. Dey wanted a drunk Irishman so dey wanted me to find one fer em'."
I sat there with me mouth hanging open. Really dude? What goods was O'Leary trying to sell me, but no, no, he went on with his fantastic tale.
"Sos, I tole em' I did, dat St. Pats Day wus not an excuse fer all Irishmen ta git drunk. An dey waved me explanation off like I wus lyin' ta dem bold face! It got ta where I wus lookin' around fer a fella in his cups but dere wus noone on da street but meself! So I started actin' da maggot and dey were luvin' it sayin' I wus a true Irishman cus I was "feisty." I wus wonderin' where dey got dat word frum. Sos I tried to git me away frum em' but dey followed me down the street snappin' pictures of me an dem shoutin' at me an me at dem and given da single finger salute. Imagine me surprise to find me face, finger, and backside plastered all over a Japanese photo page by someone named Oshi whose travel blog to Ireland be featuring me! I be labelled as da IRISH DRUNK dey met on a street corner. I came upon it just befur I left cus one of em' had handed me dere card and it took me until recent history ta look em' up. And wot did I find? ME! Three thumbnail pages of ME dat yer can click on one and it blows me image ta full page!"
"I tell ya!" Dalton shook his head in commiseration.
OK to say I was dumbfounded be an exaggeration. But I laughed I did, I couldn't help it because having a bit of a buzz and hearing this minutiae was just too much for me sodden brain to handle.
"So wot be da result of dis . . . dis . . . instant Internet stardom?" I pushed.
"Well, it caused me ta go down ta da city hall and complain dey need to ourtlaw St. Pats Day. But dey laughed at me dey did. I den went ta da local Catlick cateedral and put in me complaint dere, but dey accused me of bein' in me cups dey did. So in turn I tole em' I wish we'd kept our Druid religion. But dey pshawed me and tole me to go "dry out and den say a few Hail Mary's" dat God would forgive me me stupid ideas. It den dawned on me to go back ta city hall and petition we change the state religion to Druidism."
"And wot did dey say ta dat?" I asked really interested.
"Dey said da same ting, I should go dry out and say a few Hail Mary's.
Oh my God, I thought to meself, no wonder he can't find work. And there the other one sat shaking his head in agreement. I won't bore you with the rest of this madness, let it be enough to say, I shook me own head as I drove home that night thinking no one in their right mind would hire Dalton and O'Leary. Unless, they wanted to recast the part of Dougal on Father Ted, then there ya go, ya got two Dougals for the price of one!
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
