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| Live Jazz in Waterstones' Bookshop |
It really was a welcome break; an oasis from long work hours and Masters' readings and hectic Dublin transport-a perfect way to forget "busy land" and enjoy time off.
I reckon I also got a jolt of reality.
Numerous pubs, bars and restaurants; live jazz in shop corners; bands and singers in bars; the best of food and drink and the most pleasant company had me quite oblivious to any underlying irritation. That is until, what I'm calling, "the ID incident".
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| The English Market, Cork City |
Half way through the Saturday night and much giggles, dancing and beer later and I'm stumped by the bouncer who tells me that my 22 years on this earth are null and void, that this establishment is strictly over 23s.
I half smirk, with an almost knowing look, "but of course, you're gonna let me in, right?". My party was over 23, surely this wasn't one of those "Oh but I'm 18 next month" situations. The doorman's stony expression makes my confidence wane a little. I actually think he might be serious...
After incredulous begging, I pull out all the petty fodder I can think of, "I'm being treated like a 17 year old, I'm a grown up for goodness sake, all I want is a nice night out with my friend here, I have a job and pay rent and make my own dinners you know!!"; back up straight and trying to ridicule the situation yet really only ridiculing myself. "Sorry. You're not 23. You're not coming in"
Then something amazing happens. My jaw drops and I burst into tears. The most ridiculous and embarrassing reaction that I've had to a situation in some time. Whatever about the temporary memory-jolt back to my teens (something that is quite upsetting, come to think of it) I feel completely and irrationally despairing of the situation. And it's not as if there was anything very appealing about this bar to begin with!
After a group of friends bound over and offer hugs and sympathy and helpful verbal abuse of the bouncer that made me cry, I try desperately to dry my tears. I calm my hot face and head and laugh through it as we move onto a different pub in a didn't-want-to-go-to-the-other-place-anyway strut. We spend a while there salvaging the laughs and banter of the night that had been pre-"ID incident"....
This whole ordeal is quite trivial, really, I even feel ridiculous as I type about my big cry-baby antics here. But it's the bigger picture I wish to highlight.
My night ended up with me crying in such hysterics that I've managed to scare myself a little. On leaving our second choice of bar, I promptly began choking and spluttering through so many tears, I think that rain or no rain, I was crying quite a river of self-pity for myself.
Why, I have no idea. I'd like to think I'm not such a sensitive soul that I'd have a nervous breakdown when I'm refused to a bar. All the feelings of that fateful March night came flooding back to me, "I feel like a crazy person" I say again...
Which leads me to my point-I'm no expert but I'd say that I may have received emotional alarm bells to stop doing something that I'm doing wrong.
While my drama queen act really had no basis, and I was safe and sound and perfectly chirpy the next day, (if but for a dull hangover) I had been so distraught the night before that I know that alcohol needs to be given a wide berth right now to let me figure out if something is on my mind.
A lot of people have approached me about this before, quite rightly concerned, but I knew myself that I had no reason to worry. It is something that I have to be careful of but til now has not been a challenge. I have managed it and my medication with advice from my doctor-all was above board and I refuse not to live life the way normally would if I can at all help it.
But November is booze free this year. Gonna make me a saving and clear my head of anything that might be sparked by a mean man. :) Fun and games are good for the soul-so are broccoli and detox unfortunately!
(and as a by-the-way; Cork is a beautiful city, the Jazz festival is a must see and no one has ever done breakfast as good as Liberty Grill! Also, Tramore Beach, Waterford, is a beautiful place to re-cooperate after a weekend of jazz!)
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| Tramore Beach, Waterford |
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