I spent January of 2013 in Ireland. I loved, loved, loved it. We went from Dublin out to the coast and pretty much took a tour around the whole country before ending in Dublin again. There were about 20 students and two professors.
The whole group on our tour of Derry.
There was a girl on the trip named Kylie, and she was one of those people who effortlessly made people feel included and liked. For some reason that I don’t remember she really wanted to meat a guy named “Seamus” while we were in Ireland. Because she was such a likable person we all soon became aware of her mission and sought to help her achieve her goal.
There are a lot of cemeteries in Ireland, and we went on tours of many of them. These were chock full of deceased Seamuses who’d been involved in all sorts of Irish history. Every once in a while we’d point one out to her and she’d laugh and say that it didn’t count. She wanted to meet a real live breathing Seamus.
We went out nearly every night, talked with various locals and still come our last night we’d had no luck. We hit the pubs with renewed determination. We were walking up to people and introducing ourselves, hoping that someone would say, “Nice to meet you, I’m Seaums.”. It didn’t happen.
On the walk back to the hotel someone asked Kylie for a light, she stopped and said, “Only if your name is Seamus.”
“It’s not.” He said, “I’m Ryan.” She gave him the light anyway and we continued on our way.
The next day we lamented our bad luck, but agreed that it was the only grey cloud on an otherwise excellent trip. As we went through customs on our way out of the country I glanced at the name tag of the guy who was checking my boarding pass and passport. His name was Seamus.
So Kylie got her wish after all and it was a great cap to a wonderful trip.
I hope you leave here laughing.