Follow the free beer...

So the hostel I'm staying offers a free pint when you eat dinner at Busker Brown's.

Very posh, clean whites and browns in a opening space. The bar remains above as you move to the back and lower into a pit of tables a big screen TV. Spain and Italy tonight. Lots of couples, and well dressed, business and church types.

Since I dress like a lesbian, I was the lone chocolate chip in a cookie. No matter, the bartender greeted me well. He and I, along with my bench mate, discussed Rugby.

The Bartender, Barry, played his Rugby locally and was recruited by Eastern Suburbs in Sydney at an early age. Tall boy, and I saw the talent. He happily admitted to drinking his career away. Then, on a series of bar naps, he built my Connemarra tour route for tomorrow. (I've "hired" a car. Rent, that is, and I hope to only kill a few people driving on the wrong side of the road.) His browned teeth didn't dull his smile, and he spoke of Irish Rugby. "We're so close to taking all those bastards!" "O'Gara's the business!!!" He was proud of the West's emergence into Rugby. Typically dominated by Leinster(Dublin area), and Munster(Southwest/Limerick), both Connacht(Galway) and Ulster(Blefast) have begun to show signs of rucking. Good on 'em. Connor will need an academy to attend.

Barry hates England more than I do. Didn't think that possible.

To my left was Chauncey, or Charlie, or some "Ch" sounding name, with various syllables slurred behind. No matter. A fantastic conversationalist, especially when no one is listening. He too loved the game played in Heaven. Said he played until Senior grade, and stopped due to injury. An hour later, I found him "resting" at the Kebab shop. This country doesn't have Gatorade, so I don't know what they use for hangovers.

Neither man still played, though both 10 years my junior. I asked why? "Don't have time, plus I've got this bar to run," bellowed Barry. Chuckster drooled and squinted, "Fuck's sake. (insert drivel here)"

This is something to be investigated.