My Stress Level's Dublin

Already well over a month ago, I had unique opportunity to hop a pond to Dublin, Ireland and explore the land Guinness and things that get fuzzy after too many Guinnesses. I took this sojourn as the organizer of a trip for two humble groups of about 250 people from throughout the US as their reward for hard work throughout out the year placing students on exchange programs in said US. The task is genuinely as daunting as it sounds, but it takes a team effort and I'm grateful for the help I had along the way to make the trip a reality. Just to formally etch their names in lore, Doug and Stu are top-notch people and friends. I owe no small bit of the trip's success to their capable helping hands. Now, the one thing I will say about this trip is that a lot of the truly difficult work is taken care of prior to arrival in Dublin. Once there, there are certainly things to organize and situations that arise, but provided you put in the work up front, as long as you keep a smile on your face, head on a swivel, and shirts ironed (two out of three ain't bad) the trip kind of just gets done in its own lumbering way.

In addition to the trip being a great opportunity to see a foreign country, it is also a great opportunity to get see members of our field and check in on them once a year. I really treasure that chance, as after three years, I've grown to consider a vast majority of them some great acquaintances and it's great to hear how things are going in their neck of the woods. Just so this doesn't sound too much like a PSA, there is also a vast minority of people that I'm relieved I only see once a year, but overall it's wonderful. It's amazing how many different people and ways of life can be found in our own country.

Now, as much as this trip is about catching up with people I rarely see, the most surreal meet up came courtesy of someone who used to share my same zip code and almost a decade later, we meet on the other end of the world. Through the magic of social media, I noted that Jen Hnatov also happened to be in Dublin in an overlapping time frame and we made a point to meet up, catch up, and drink up, in a buzzing Dublin pub as live music was played. As great to see Jen as ever, as she and her friends were very accommodating and made me feel quite welcome. A great time to say the least. It would have been great to catch up with Jen regardless, but incidentally she spent some time living in Seattle. A place I must see and get to know. Conversation was at no shortage.

The five general notes I'll make about Dublin are as follows:

1. There is live music everywhere from about 2 pm to 2 am. And we're talking quality live music. I remember walking around Rome and hearing people play and frankly, with all modesty aside, thinking that if you gave me, Jay, Zach, and Ben the plane ticket, we would clean up here. In Dublin, to be clear, I still had similar feelings, but I found myself thinking in addition to the plane ticket that we would need about a month or two to truly get tight before jumping into something like that. Awesome and diverse sounds. Everywhere.

2. Dublin was such a relief in the sense that it was conceivably a city that you could walk around and say that you've seen. "Frustrating" is not the perfect word, but one of the frustrating things about last year's trip to London was that people would (for good reason) ask me where to go to eat or where certain tourist spots could be found. Too often my response was, "The tube is *insert directions here* the sheer size of the city made it near impossible to wrap my head around in the mere 24 hour head start I have on these people in terms of arrival. In Dublin, dare I say I was able to sound quite astute and knowledgeable (a poker face is everything) and point out where notable things were. Sounds like a small thing, but made a world of difference.

3. The Guinness difference is not lip service. There is a difference in the quality of Guinness in Dublin and everywhere else. With that said, it's only going to bump up your appreciation by a notch or two. If you think Guinness in dog piss in the states, you're going to think that the Guinness in Dublin is creamier dog piss. (There's an image... sorry about that). If you think Guinness is pretty good here, you'll think it's good there... good to great... great to unreal.. etc. In short the difference is a little overblown, even at the Hershey Chocolate Factory of beer, Guinness Storehouse, but it's definitely not a lie.

4. I say this with no intention of being cute or funny, but you almost forget the magnitude of the history of violence in Dublin. There were perfectly tranquil parts of the city where you would see a statue of note and the tour guide would give you a brief history of the site, which often ended with "and that's where this amount of people died." It's astounding and pretty heartbreaking. It'll suck the life out of a room.

5. The security on the streets of Dublin, specifically Temple Bar, is unreal. They have bouncer types at each pub door, as well as a floater security guy about every half block. They all have earpieces and are interconnected. This is a culture centered around the drink and they prepare accordingly. It's fascinating to see in action.

In terms of more personal stories about the city, it was definitely great to socialize with Stu, office mates, board, and the field, I made sure to get one late night in Dublin crossed off my list, but with the exception a dear friend getting a little too squeamish about the sight of his own blood and Stu misjudging some steps and almost completely wiping out, I can't say things got very wild. One, I'm there on business and that's not lost on me, but two, I actually picked up a whale of a cold and I tried to spend every moment that wasn't centered around me tending to the quality of the trip sleeping and relaxing. I'll get the wild nights in Dublin out of my system next time.

For as much hard work as this trip is, I often say that the only truly brutal day once in Europe is the group check in day. In short, there are a lot of cogs in motion that day and not much down time to address it all cleanly. Fortunately, everything went fine on that day and I made the call that evening to my sister (due to the time difference, it was still appropriate to give a call and an update) and no sooner had the words "it should all be relatively down hill from here" come out of my mouth when I received a text stating that a member of our field had slipped and broken her hip. My heart sank and I understand that woman is on the road to recovery and I wish her well. You genuinely could not have scripted that moment any better (worse?).

Great tunes and times in Dublin. My thanks to all involved.


I went a bit out of order here, as Jake and Kaitlin's wedding was but a day before my Dublin departure. Update coming there soon.

Random Memory of the Post: The night itself was nothing too special, but rarely have I laughed harder than the early-college summer evening where Kozak kept accidentally calling the short-lived McDonald's Snack Wraps "Snap Racks." Had me in stitches at the Sguera home.

Song of the Day: Don't Ride That Horse - Old Crow Medicine Show

Jazz Song of the Day: So In Love - Chick Corea Akoustic Band

What Made You Think They Weren't Bi-Lingual?

First and foremost, I know his name is Otis Redding. This is a blog, and that's my play on words. (I went to school for things like that you know?) Music and a passion for the written word that I don't make nearly enough time for sum me up as much as an avant-groove Miles Davis sketch non-flamenco. Seems write in the moment. (I did it again there.)

Second and... lessmost?

This blog switch up is not some sort of poetic coming of age symbol as I ditch my younger self and become an adult. (I think my youth and maturity have always had somewhat of symbiotic relationship.) Simply put, Yesternow was hooked up to my York College email address and I don't think I can access that college account anymore and I therefore cannot access the blog anymore. Not to be censored, I endeavor to press on with this new blog address. Fear not, dear readers. Yesternow wasn't deleted or anything, I just can't create new posts for it.  Fortunately, we'll likely never know the day where Sean Taylor's highest and lowest moments are not a click of the mouse away for us all to relive.

Anyway, what prompts me back to the precipice of this proverbial pool of farce, wisdom, and auto-biography is actually a recent Facebook notification that... notified.... me that I had been friends with Sharnell Lightsey for 8 years. (8 years!)

It occurred to me that the last time I had dipped my quill in Yesternow was just before her wedding (her wedding!) and I owed to myself to enshrine that moment in the annals of millennial literature for all time and catch you and my future self up on all that has been going on since that time.

Outright remarkable to reflect on how Sharnell and I became friends. Starting out in a freshman year opera/theatre workshop where if memory serves we didn't say much to anybody, much less each other. I think it's fair to say that we each experienced our own "holy shit" revelation at hearing the other sing (girl's got pipes) and from there we started off with a pretty polite friendship, until I started up with Rhapsody, and all bets were off. In no time at all we were thick as thieves and had no shame in being sounding boards, silly, sad, angry, and straight of weird in front of each other. I once requested to be called "Young Jeezy" for a week (college is a time for experimentation) and she happily obliged without hesitation. Need I say more? And need I say that it was a tremendous week?

Tough to put that kind of friendship into words, really. She's my sister. I couldn't possibly compress the laughs we've shared into a blog. Just couldn't do it.

Anyway, I remember sitting around the Wolf bleachers as she was getting to know Brian and watching her face light up. I then met Brian and I understood why. Could not be happier for two better people. We went from the days of "Young Jeezy" to her wedding day. Surreal.

I made the trip down to Gettysburg for the wedding, where I promptly saw Brian, rocking his sly peacock feather (I see you, bruh.) and was obviously pumped for the day. Spent the ceremony with Jaci (obviously there was nowhere else to sit) and her super cool boyfriend, Bobby, who was short his Macho Man sunnies, but played it off well.

It was a beautiful ceremony and reception and party, and after party, and why am I still partying, and seriously what the heck? I should stop partying. and meeting the Johnson's and seeing the Lightseys and some dear friends from York College circa 6 AIP (After ipod), and rest assured a good time was had by all and the dance floor had no business trying to contain me etc. BUT....

I want to give Sharnell all the props in the world for one, arriving in a horse pulled carriage, and two, stepping out of said horse pulled carriage successfully with the cumbersome (albeit beautiful) shoes she was wearing. Well done. Simply, well done. I do have one more brief story I want to share about the wedding, but to get the moment of sincerity out of the way, Sharnell and Brian, I love you both very much and I was honored to spend the day with you and those you care about (except Jaci) and I don't need Facebook to remind me every 8 years to know it.

Okay, final story. The wedding reception is wrapping up and after a day of driving and dancing, I know that those who are hip are headed down to a post-splendor bonfire and I want to be awake to experience the good vibes. With that in mind, I head to the bar area and start throwing down cups of lukewarm coffee (It's lukewarm, as it's the end of the night.) While I'm in the crux of my dark roast chug session, they clear the urn from the bar area and bring it to the kitchen.

When I notice the urn is missing I ask for one more cup for the road (walking path). A member of the waitstaff happily cuts me a break and heads to the back to get me some coffee. Now, in the afterglow of a subsiding buzz and while passively chatting it up with wedding guests, I am conditioned to believe that this coffee is lukewarm, so I all but literally throw this fresh mug into my mouth.

As this liquid hits my tongue and throat, the dear woman clarifies that she made a fresh pot and I treat my mouth to likely the worst burn it has ever been dealt. (Sure beats the tomato soup incident of '96.) I have no one but myself to blame for this scalding and I have to swallow just about every expletive known to man along with this figurative lava and a myriad of dead body cells, I'm sure. I was out of commission for a couple of days there. A word of caution, dear friends. Always assume it's a fresh cup.

Good to do this again. In the coming days I re-hash another Rhapsody rooted wedding, a trip to Dublin and a few other nuggets of time gone by.

Song of the Day: Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen

*Relative to nothing, I remember distinctly listening to this tune on repeat in about the year 1 BIP (Before i-pod) to get myself jazzed up to play Lord Brockhurst in the Mt. Sinai Summer production of "The Boyfriend." That was no chore, as Brian May is all shades of awesome and my Queen kick was in full bloom in early high school. With that said, the swagger and playfulness of the romance implied in that song did wonders to prepare me to play that wildly inappropriate, but somehow charming old man.

Jazz Song of the Day: You've Changed - Charles Lloyd and Jason Moran