The Asinine Irish Exception
When I initially decided to spend my summer in Ireland, I never considered that at some point during that time I might end up at the guard’s (police) station as a witness. Nor if you had told me that during my travels I would encounter charming Russians and asinine Irishmen, would I have believed you. But the wonderful part of traveling, and life in general, is that you never know what is going to happen.
I took this in Russia earlier this year. I thought it was a fitting photograph for this bit.
Obviously, during my month in Russia, I met more than a few charmers; the people we met were kind and generous beyond our wildest imagination. Similarly, in my previous experiences with Irish people, I had never once witnessed anything other than good-natured banter from this warmhearted, leprechaun-loving, Guinness-guzzling population.
But, as the old saying goes, there’s always an exception to the rule. And in County Kerry, friends, that exception’s name is Eddie O’Grady.
During my second week in Ireland, Aisling and I drove into Tralee, a city about 45 minutes away from Dingle, to run a few errands. I wanted to get an Irish SIM card for my iPhone, and she needed some items for her friend’s upcoming hen (bachelorette) party. After dropping her son at creche (Irish preschool) we headed into town.
After our morning of shopping and a delicious lunch together, we headed back towards Dingle, chatting away and admiring the gorgeous views when suddenly we came upon a traffic jam in Connor’s Pass. A bit of background: the views and quaintness of the Connor’s Pass drive makes it a popular drive for tourists and locals alike. Although the road operates in both directions, at many points it is far too narrow for two cars to pass simultaneously. Politeness and patience - two Irish pastimes - reign supreme, and there are rarely issues.
As we approached, a small BMW was parked in the middle of the road, and consequently traffic was beginning to back up in either direction. From our vantage point, the parked car appeared abandoned. Aisling decided to get out and see what was going on.
Immediately, she noticed that the driver was in fact in the car, but was refusing to move his vehicle. He didn’t want to pull off the road and damage his beloved BMW, and he didn’t want to reverse to a wider portion of the road a few meters back, again fearing for his car.
After a moment of chatting, I saw Aisling convince him to attempt to move over the three feet that would be sufficient to allow the oncoming traffic to flow once again. She waved him this way and that, checking for distance and space before each movement. But after a brief (and miserable) attempt, he began to shout at her. From where I sat, it looked like a “Do I have more room on that side” shout because she continued waving this way and that, before suddenly throwing up her hands and returning to our car.
When she sat back down in the driver’s seat, I could tell that she was livid. She told me that unfortunately, contrary to the looks of it, the man was not asking about room on either side. Instead, he was throwing a full-blown temper tantrum because he wanted everyone to move out of his way.
To make matters even worse, instead of simply not moving, he had repeatedly calling her a name that rhyme with ‘witch’. At this point, “no good deed goes unpunished” was an understatement.
The two of us were fuming in the car, yet the misogynistic BMW remained firmly planted in the road. At this point and having seen Aisling return to her vehicle, other drivers began to approach his car to see if they could help solve the problem. Aisling decided to call the guards to have someone who was professionally trained to deal with nutcases take it from here. They said they would be ten minutes.
As we waited, we discussed how certain parts of this man’s anatomy must be either microscopic or unused, we decided it was probably both. It helped to giggle as we waited for the guards.
Finally, traffic began to flow and with our windows unintentionally rolled down, we passed the BMW. As we crept by, keeping our eyes ahead and mouths shut, the man turned towards Aisling and in a very clear voice said,
“ Go on, you dumb f***ing [enter a word that rhymes with ‘punt’ or ‘bunt’]”.
She slammed on her brakes and immediately turned to look at me. We were both shockingly speechless. Unfortunately for onlookers, the moderate flow of traffic had once again ceased. But this time, neither Aisling nor I cared.
Within seconds, all of my instinctual, biological responses were in full swing - I was buzzing with adrenaline and ready to slap the shit out of this stranger. Who did he think he was? Luckily, Aisling was one step ahead of me.
“You must feel really great saying that to a woman who just tried to help you.”
“Well, you’re a dumb [same word again…]!”
“Right, well the guards are on their way and I’m going to wait to make sure they get you to move out of the way because you’ve been causing traffic and headaches for far too long now. They’ll be here soon, so we’re just going to wait.”
He repeated his previous statement ad nauseam. His unoriginality and deep offense were beginning to wear on us, but we didn't raise our voices in response. Sticks and stones, brother…
“I’d like to punch you in the face, you dumb [Are you surprised that you have to use the same word again?! Well, don’t be…].”
Our voices were official raised.
“Grand! I’d love to see you try! Come on, then, come out here and punch a woman in the face. I’m sure these people would love to see that!”
“I bet you’d like that, you dumb [beep*ing beeeeeeep].”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing; I was on the verge of hysterical laughter because it was so outrageous. As he continued, I was cheering Aisling on from the passenger’s seat. For what seemed like minutes, he wouldn’t stop harassing us; finally the guards pulled up. They approached his window first.
Guess what he told them?
“She rudely called me a bitch and I was just trying to move my car.”
I could feel my mouth tighten and my nostrils flare as the guard told us what he had said. Again, adrenaline and insanity seemed to overtake me. At this point, I’m pretty sure Aisling and I would have given Russell Crowe and his Gladiator companions a run for their money…
As the guard had already spoken with the other driver, it immediately became a “he said, she said” situation. The guards told us to meet them at their station in Dingle for a statement. By the time we arrived, we had calmed down enough to coherently tell our story and assess the fact that there was little to be done.
But don’t worry, the story ends on a lighter note! Thanks to our new friend’s full name on the police report, Google, and the fact that everyone knows everyone around these parts, we were able to find him, his profession and company, his background story, and even a few pictures that helped us walk away from the situation laughing.
Wouldn't you love to just give him a kick...
