April 07, 2004
Belfast it is.
My colleagues told me to pack my flack jacket, but going to Belfast didn't scare me-not only have things calmed down a lot there, but come on-I lived in Oak Cliff, in Dallas. The roughest neighborhood in town. My Rottweiler was armed, for god's sake.
So this morning I was screaming down the motorway to catch a 6:50 flight. I was bone weary tired (having only just concluded the argument with Y the night before), and trying to be positive. I was off to Belfast, a place I had never been. The motorway was empty. Y and I had made up. The sky was lightening on the horizon, and I was looking forward to getting to the weekend-Y and I are off to Scotland for the weekend.
But pulling into Heathrow, I struggled to hold on to the happy thoughts. Traffic got messy. Police patrols were obvious. The radio was only advertisements, and as I tried to look at the sky and be positive about the colors, it came to me. For fuck's sake, Helen...it's five fucking thirty in the morning and you would commit random acts of violence for a cup of coffee. Give up on the touchy feely happy shit, ok?
I gave up.
But Belfast was cool, the little that I saw of it. It was cold and windy, and my meeting wouldn't start for an hour, so I asked the cab driver to drop me off in the city center and then give me directions to the local Dream Job building. He turned to me, speaking through the partition.
"Hubbly bubbly wee bridge bubbly. OK?" he asked.
Oh God. I'd clearly had a language bypass on the airplane without my knowledge.
"Er...could you repeat that?" I asked hesitantly.
"Bibbidy bobbity wee bridge boo." he replied, with a big smile.
Nope. It was just noise.
"I'm so sorry- I'm not used to the gorgeous Irish accent you have. Could you repeat it again?" I asked, worried that he would explode (I really do love the Irish accent. Mmmmmm....)
After another 5 minutes, some exaggerated charades, the sale of my first born child and some finger puppetry, I figured out he was giving me directions to continue straight down the street, and turn right at the wee bridge.
I am going to be saying wee a lot now. I love it.
Walking up the street, I had a short conversation with Y, but it was too windy so I stepped into an enormous community hall type building, and it was like falling into a whole new world-young girls raced about the place with wildly curly, thick Texas style hair, great quantities of makeup, and kicking their legs about while holding arms fully in place.
It was an Irish dancing festival.
I had stepped out of reality and into Riverdance.
Very cool.
When my meeting began, I was (as usual) the only Yankee, and I tried to start it off well. When I stood to begin my part of the presentation, I decided to ease in with a bit of light humor.
"Right. My presentation today should be short, but please do let me know if I am going too fast, or if I am boring. But say it nicely, since I have a fragile ego."
You could hear the crickets chirp.
Tough room.
I tried a few more jokes.
They just looked confused.
I gave up, and have decided that the men I met with were not representative of the Irish peoples.
I am home now and full of Lebanese food, gym visit done, and looking forward to relaxing. And I am going to try out some of my earlier meeting room humor on Mr. Y, see if he laughs.
Then again, I suck a clown's ass at telling jokes, perhaps I'd better turn the Pollyanna sign back on.
-H.
PS-Kaetchen, you are wonderful. I got my presents and I love them madly. Thank you, dearest. I can't wait to start laughing with Sedaris!
PPS-Melanie, you too are fabulous. I had no idea you made jewelry! A pic with me wearing the gorgeous necklace coming soon. And believe me-your necklace is much better than the three diamond one.
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