It is actually an interesting couple of hours and the view from the sky bar at the top is spectacular,floor to ceiling windows and a 360 degree view of the city. We do a little shopping and head to our next must see.
The Brazenhead is the oldest pub in Ireland, 1198, and has been visited by everyone from James Joyce and Oscar Wilde to Bono and Van Morrison. It's early afternoon and the locals are more than happy to share their observations about what we "yanks" need to do before we leave. We enjoy the banter, soak up the history and I hope I have a chance to stop here again when I can come for the nightly jam sessions.
Off to Trinity College to do some shopping and hit Grafton Street. We take the Temple Bar route and see a group of gentlemen, I use that term loosely, in the midst of their stag party. The groom is in neon pink tights, leopard panties, black wig, and makeup that could only be done by a really frustrated clown wanna be! Every few minutes they blow a whistle, this triggers a moment of theater, either standing on one leg(not easily done in their inebriated condition) and singing a song, or becoming prostrate(in the road) and reciting poetry (I think). Each revelers shirt has their name and what role they play in the wedding party embossed on the back. THE BAR HAS BEEN SET...this is an entirely new degree of pre-wedding humiliation.
Although both men have said they are up for some shopping it soon becomes evident I need to park them at a pub and get serious. Generally there are at the very least 1 - 3 pubs on every block, not today. We finally find Dukes, and I leave them to their musings.
I head back to the shops, find a few things but not what I am looking for and resign myself to the realization I should have been more diligent in this regard earlier in our trip.
Back to Dukes and we decide we should head to the hotel, do some on-line checking in for flights and find a place for our last dinner together. The meloncholy is palpable and I fight the emotion, I want to enjoy these last few hours.
I go up to our room to freshen up and come back to the news that our flight is no longer at 3:30 p.m. but 12:50...I am not amused. This changes our next day to nothing more than getting to the airport, dropping the car, and catching our flights. Sean's flight has not been changed which means he has about 5 hours in the airport, oh joy!
Waltzing down narrow alley ways we walk in to two restaurants and leave before we finally find a little Italian place. Doesn't look promising but the menu they have posted looks good and we decide this is it. Okay, this is authentic Italian, I dare say we are the only English speaking people in the place and we are lucky to get a table. The meal is one of the best we've had and leave happy. We stop at the bar hotel and have an after dinner drink and I head up to our room to pack and prepare for the morning malay.
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