Seven Nights in Ireland

We’d only been on the plane for a couple of hours, but all of us were already proper smashed. It wasn’t a very big airplane—one that would haul fifty or so—so it’s not like our drunkenness was bothering anyone. All six of us—Matt, Vegan, Tom, Jona, Lee, and I—were routing about the cabin, throwing empty liquor bottles, and making right wankers out of ourselves; nobody complained, though, as our plane descended into Galway, Ireland and our stewardess ushered us into our seats so we could fasten our seatbelts. The blue and green lights of the city sparkled as we passed over them, making me feel even more excited to land and get off of this stupid plane so I could go explore a little bit. Though I knew that it wouldn’t be until the next day that I would get to have a look at the city, I was still quite intrigued. I’d seen Dublin half a dozen times, but never quite got to see Galway in-depth.

Our plane coasted into the gate at midnight, and we were all far from tired. We’d been up all day playing shows in London, and we’d been hammered since then. So, as we exited the plane, stumbling into the airport, we staggered into the first pub we came across—which, luckily, was located just outside of the airport, about a two-minute walk from the large, modern building.

The pub was an old one—looked like it had a lot of history behind it. The front door barely hung on its hinges, the windows leaked blistering cold air, and the cushion of the corner booth we claimed looked as if it’d been stabbed numerous times by a sort of knife. A pale-skinned girl, who was very blessed upon her chest, danced over to our table with a confidence I hadn’t seen before in anyone—besides myself, that is. Her hair was dark in contrast to her skin, and it hung down freely over her shoulders while she smiled at us from under her fringe.

“Drinks, guys?” She asked, the words falling out of her lips carelessly.

I hadn’t noticed that I was staring at her mouth, until I heard someone say my name.

“Oli.” Matt nudged me with his elbow.

I blinked rapidly for a moment, pulling my eyes off of her to look at Matt’s face—which was much less pleasant than hers. “What?” My tone sounded more like “What the hell do you want?” but he didn’t seem to notice.

He pointed to the girl with his index finger. “Order your drink.”

“Oh,” I turned to look at her again, smiling a little at her impatient stance. She tapped her petite foot on the old wood floor quickly. Not like she meant to look impatient, but like she’d been working all day and was tired of plastering on a fake smile every time a new table of rowdy, hammered lads came in and sat down. “A Red Stripe will be fine, love.” I said, flashing her one of my best smiles.

She ignored me, though, and wrote the order down on her little white notepad, muttering an “Alrighty, then” under her breath as she scurried away, maintaining one of her best fake smiles.

All the guys laughed at something—something someone said, I guess—but I kept my eyes on her small hips as she darted between tables and behind the bar. I watched her read some of the orders off to the other barmaid and grab my can of Red Stripe out of a cooler below the bar. I could hear everyone talking amongst themselves, some of them directing questions at me, but I ignored them and kept to my thoughts.

“He’s always like this when he gets drunk.” Tom complained, huffing. “He sees a bird he thinks is fit, and everything else goes out the window. You know he’ll fuck her tonight, yeah?” He laughed.

Normally I would have went all “big brother” on Tom, but for some reason all I wanted to do was watch her. She was pretty, yeah, but I’d definitely seen hotter gals before. It wasn’t like it was the clichéd “oh my, the most beautiful bird I’ve ever seen in my life. I want her, I need her, I must have her, blah blah blah…” There was just something about her that made me interested in her.

Within minutes, her tray was loaded and she was tottering back over to us, nearly tipping the tray more than once, and muttering words under her breath—curse words, I assumed.

She named off each of the drinks as she sat them in front of each of us, and tucked the tray underneath her left arm when she was finished. “Would you guys like anything else?”

“Nah, cheers though, love.” Lee answered, raising his glass to her.

She turned and then walked away, without so much as a look in my direction; which disappointed me, I must say. I was used to every female eye—sometimes male eyes, too—being on me at all times. It was refreshing, in a way, to not be drooled over for once; but all the same it frustrated me that the one girl I wanted to be paying attention, wouldn’t give me the time of day.

So, I did as any normal guy would do—drunk or not—and stood up, ignoring Vegan and Matt’s questions as I carried my beer over to the bar. I hoisted myself up onto the stool directly in front of where the girl stood, counting the tips out of her apron. The sound of my aluminum can against the wood of the bar made her look up at me, raising an eyebrow.

“Another beer?” She questioned, about to make a move towards the cooler.

I shook my head, smiling. “No, love, thanks.”

She paused for a moment, a blank look on her face, before she went back to pulling bills out of her apron pocket and tossing them onto the counter in front of her. I watched carefully while she straightened all of the bills, making sure none of the corners were folded up, and then quickly folded them and shoved them deep into the pocket of her jeans.

“So you sure you don’t need anything else?” She raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been just sitting here staring at me for like ten minutes.”

I was shocked, to say the least, at her tone. She seemed irritated. “I’m sorry, I—“ I couldn’t think of anything to say; that was a first for me. While I gathered my thoughts, she moved further down the bar and grabbed a wet cloth, and began wiping down the darkened wood. I couldn’t let her go, though; I wanted her to talk to me, I wanted to hear that beautiful foreign accent slide off her tongue again. “I just wanted to know your name.” Was all I could think to say as I moved down to her again, sitting—once again—right in front of her.

She looked up at me through her fringe and sighed. “If I told you me name, would you let me be?

I gave her a brilliant smile—the one I always used to get the birds—and chuckled. “Maybe.”

She didn’t look amused, but complied anyway and reached across the bar to offer her hand for me to shake. “Finn.”

“Finn.” I repeated back, more to myself than to her, smiling as I accepted her small hand. Her short fingers made mine look extra long, and her nails were painted a bright pink colour.

She nodded and said “yes” before scurrying away to take someone’s drink order, leaving me to myself. So, I grabbed my half-empty beer and slouched back to the table, where the guys were still drinking and laughing.

“Didja’ get ‘er?” Matt asked, smiling widely at me.

I shook my head. “I need another beer.”

“Awww.” Matt mocked me, sliding his glass of whiskey in front of me. “Little Oli bear got rejected for the first time?”

Tom heard him, and piped up at this. “What? She turned you down, mate?”

“No, she didn’t fucking turn me down.” I argued, gripping Matt’s glass and taking a large gulp of the whiskey. “She’s just busy and can’t talk right now.”

“Well you sat there staring at her long enough.” He replied, chuckling.

Jona guffawed and spoke up. “She’s fit, mate.”

I nodded and took another drink. “I’ll get ‘er number.”