Slow Airs

In Letterkenny, it seems everyone who is 16 and up till around 22 goes to the bar.  Unlike the other pubs I've seen thus far, Oasis is decorated like the classic 1950's roller rink, but one that has been redone to retain the original atmosphere, but still have a modern flare - flatscreen TV's and color-changing fluorescent lights.  No matter it's class, its cheap and provides refuge from the gale that is raging outside.

After waking up late, I raced downstairs this morning, inhaled my breakfast, bid my friends farewell, grabbed my bags (all of them), and hit the street.  I made the bus, which left late anyway, only after realizing I needed to change destinations.  I wondered why everyone kept clarifying whether I meant Donegal town or county.  I decided to check while waiting for the bus to Donegal Town and discovered that Dungloe Town in Donegal County was my intended destination.

The trip was about three hours, which afforded me time to listen to a lot of U2 and reflect on the past few days.

Never tell a drunken Irishman that you play fiddle.  John insisted that I play for him.  To make a long story short, after two and a half hours of polite acquiescing, I had caused half of the band to leave, played the same song five times, and had a hell of a good time doing it.  O'Donnells is the famous pub where the Dubliners got their start.  Somehow, I think my lucky break will come from somewhere else.

O'Shea's Hot Whisky:
1/2 hot water
1/2 whisky
1 spoon sugar
1 lemon wedge
4 cloves in lemon

I am known in a small circle of Dublin musicians as 'the fella who kept playing the slow airs.'