The Crossing

Remember internet cafes? Machine upon machine, sleepers and gamers, and that guy with the lung-tossing cough?

They still exist, do not fear.

I began The Crossing 9am PST, and this post is half eight local, 0030h in SF. I've slept approximately 5 hours.

Ranger and I flew to Altanta first. Ranger, was 3rd Bat, Bravo 375th. Artillery spotter, he and I have chewed similiar dirt, though 15 years apart. Ever been to Fallujah? Ranger, aka The Firehydrant, and I are workout partners in crossfit.

Flying to Atlanta never felt like travelling. Only on the plane to Dublin, did the tide change. I attempted television, only to have my earlier conclusion reinforced. (Yes, it's true, Kevin doesn't have a TV in his house.) So I talked with Sue.

Sue and her husband were embarking on a 6 week tour of Europe. They had promised this to themselves after a short stint in London together. That was 35 years ago. Between, Sue raised two boys in Idaho, ran the school library, and when the Special Education teacher bailed, took on the toughest job in Education. Sue helped me run the table on the Plane's trivia competition. Her boys grew up to be engineeers, computer science and structural. We both agreed that my friend Liz looks like Julia Roberts in "Charlie Wilson's War."

And the synchronic wisdom she gave me: "After the kids were gone, we had to talk to each other. "

In Dublin, the Fog found each other, and moved directly to the Jameson's distillery. Since Father Steve doesn't drink whiskey, and Jaime's wife is preggers, the Black Mountain and I got a double share. Include the tasting competition to which I humbly volunteered, and I was singingly drunk. Sine Metu.

We discussed the EU and Irish voting, and people's desire for cures, not processes. Over dinner at Gruel (Voted Best Diner in Dublin by people who vote in such things) we marveled, reveled, and scared the shit out of the natives.

A final pint of Guinness, and abed. I wonder what today will bring?