Traveling sure can suck sometimes.

As I sit in the empty hotel room, digesting the first ham I’ve had in over two months, I feel lucky just to have made it to Ireland. Compared to most methods of transportation, flying is supposed to be one of the safest out there but it sure doesn’t mean it isn’t a bitch sometimes. Or all the time. In regards to my trip, I’ve had complications due to airports in just about every single country that I’ve arrived in. Not getting luggage in one country, not getting onto my second flight in another country, possibly being under threat by ISIS in one country, the drama never seems to end. Which is fine. When you make it to your destination. I mean, I’m not really stressing it in the heat of the moment either, I’m just worrying about not peeing my pants. That’s mainly what I was going through yesterday. Along with thinking, “Man, I bet people would be a lot calmer if this guy would stop screaming orders at us at the top of his lungs in French.” Oh, right, the language barrier. Nothing is worse about not knowing a language than being at a foreign airport where a man is screaming at you while they’re evacuating the terminal and you’re trying not to wee in your pants. Varying reports were heard like a man was being chased after by the police and slipped into the airport crowd in order to blend in along with the aforementioned ISIS bomb threat scenario. Either way, it was a bit of a shit show. Just a crowd of people being herded around throughout Paris with me blindly following the crowd and hoping it would all work out in the end. It did at least. I got to eat bacon. Or some type of ham. If you make it out alive, you should always eat ham. Especially after being in a Muslim country where there is no ham. I post this because I remember when they were calling specifically for people going to Boston or Singapore (both two wildly different locations yet connected yesterday) I thought that I should just do whatever I could to get on that flight to Boston instead. I reasoned that I sure, I would love to see Ireland and Iceland but I’d also sure love to not have to deal with all this traveling drama and just be somewhere stable for awhile. Obviously, I didn’t do that and I’m happy I didn’t. I got my luggage, I got to my hotel, I got to my room, and in twenty minutes or so I’ll be zooming over to my hostel where I’ll be staying for the next nine nights. I’m happy to be in Ireland, just like I’ve been happy to end up wherever I’m going every single time. I just wish the process wouldn’t be so damn stressful. Though really I can’t complain too much because it’s true that I’ve always ended up at my destination safe and sound. Even if it was hours or days later, I always arrive and I always am happy that I did do so. As of yet, I’m not able to confirm or deny if Irish folk actually speak English but I guess that’s something I’ll be trying to decipher for the rest of my stay here. Enjoy this post fans because the drinks will start flowing soon enough and the words will be scrambled. Maybe I’ll get more entertaining, maybe I’ll perfect the art of slur. Cheers. So it goes.

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