After spending so many hours driving in Scotland and Ireland, I got completely comfortable with driving on the left side of the road. Now that I'm back in PR, I'm finding myself actually having to apply conscious thought to remember which side to drive on. Most of the roads I drive are very familiar, so habit takes over. But when I'm turning onto a road I haven't been on before, I briefly find myself trying to remember which side I'm supposed to be on. It's surprising; after years of reinforcing certain neural patterns, I wouldn't have thought that just a few days in a new system would be enough to brush the patterns out of the sand.

I think that just like Mitch Hedberg's "One complicated payment," someone decided that since most of the trip had gone awesome, the last part would be made as difficult as possible. My 6:30am flight from Dublin to Manchester was delayed for two hours because of poor visibility, but we didn't find out until we had left the gate, so we had to sit in the plane for two hours watching the sun come up and waiting for the weather to clear. I didn't really mind much, as I slept right through it, but the delay made it nearly impossible to catch my transatlantic flight from Manchester to Boston. To make things more interesting, my duffel bag decomposed a little more at a critical moment. I hurriedly checked in my bag, the woman stuck the label on the strap, and then as I lifted the bag (by the strap) onto the belt, the strap broke. I sighed and showed it to her and she had to cancel the check-in and check in the bag again to get a new label to put on a different strap. That was the third loss of structural integrity this bag has suffered, and this one left a hole for things to fall out of. Fortunately, I only had large things in that pocket, so nothing got lost, but it was disconcerting. Fortunately, the bag made it home without any further incidents, but it's certainly never leaving again.

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Dublin was fun, though not as enjoyable for me as the countryside. The high point for me, of course, was the Guinness Storehouse. But that came last.

We got up this morning at 7am (OK, it became more like 8:15am) to eat a quick breakfast and catch the "hop-on, hop-off" tour bus that stopped at our hotel at 9. We got off at the first stop, near the General Post Office where the IRA siezed the building in 1916 and declared independence from Ireland (and were subsequently shelled into submission). It also happened to be the location of the 400' Metal Spike Of Annihilation, to my glee.

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The trip continues to be an incredible experience. On Thursday evening we flew to Dublin, spent the night at a hotel there, and then in the morning took another short flight across Ireland to Shannon, where we rented a car. From there we visited the nearby Bunratty Castle and then drove southwest to Killarney, the starting point of the road that circles the peninsula, known as the "Ring of Kerry". We stopped along the way and ate at a small, family-owned restaurant named O'Flynn's, which I loved. The people were so nice and friendly, and the food was great. I had my first pint of Guinness in Ireland (on draught, of course).

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