That's all she wrote

...meaning, "That's all Ayn wrote about Ireland." But, in the interest of rounding out the experience, here is a quick recap of the rest of Friday and Saturday (the trip home):

We did in fact get into Dublin around 4pm (the train ride took only 2.5 hours), whereupon we wearily dragged ourselves from the train station to the city center to find the bus that would take us to our hotel. We found it, and it did, which was great. The buses in Dublin are something of a thrill ride, especially if you ride up top, where you can really appreciate just how frickin' close these things get to one another.

Andrew felt pretty terrible and we considered staying in or some other drastic alternative to real dinner, but eventually reason won out and we took a bus back to the city center, where we wandered around for quite a long time, unable to find any menu that sounded appetizing. We eventually picked a tiny Italian-esque place with a vaguely Indian sounding name, where we shared a pot of the tea (the billionth of the trip) and had really pretty tasty pasta dishes. We then dashed to a movie theatre up the street to catch the last showing of "RocknRolla," the new Guy Ritchie film that had just opened in the UK that day. We actually left after an hour--while this eagerness to flee can partly be attributed to our being sick and in poor moods, the movie was also really terrible, and we're big fans of some of his earlier stuff. Ah well.

The most entertaining part of the day was probably watching a kid's game show on the Gaelic channel on the television in our hotel room. I don't think it was super-interesting as far as any kid's game show goes, but Gaelic is a really unusual-sounding language, like something made up for Stargate SG-1, so it was interesting to listen to.

Saturday, we get to the airport super early. Our flight is delayed an hour. We arrive in London with 45 minutes to catch our connecting flight, get stuck in a slow security line despite the "speed passes" the British Airways attendant gave us, and run breathless all the way to our gate, where they are holding the plane just for the two of us. I think Heathrow has something against us. The flight itself is uneventual, as is the ride home from the airport. And there you have it.

I'll post some kind of reflection in the next day or two.