This post was contributed by Lilly Rae.
Outfit-repeating, falling over things that aren’t there, pulling the curtains down during graduation. Where is Lizzie McGuire now? Who knows, but her Australian cousin is right here. About to begin my first real solo overseas trip, a matured twenty-two year old ready to take on all the men with sexy accents that the UK & Ireland could throw at her. I was about to begin a life-changing journey, right? And was I going to let my extra-long and un-coordinated limbs get in the way? You betcha. I digress, the clumsy show must go on. I had been longing for the rolling green hills of Ireland ever since my first screening of P.S I Love You at age twelve. Nothing, not even Gerard Butler’s questionable Irish accent, was going to stop me.
A Girl in Galway (not to be confused with THE Galway Girl).
If you’re anything like me, then you have already planned the perfect wedding for you and your hunky-licious, broad-shouldered, guitar-playing Irishman. The next step is just to get out there and find him. For me? Galway was going to make this happen. Or so I thought.
During my Galway stay I met an intriguing man at my hostel. Let’s call him John. He looked like the mysterious writer type. He dressed well and spoke politely. The kind of man you know your mum would love. And just when I would doubt my feelings for this curious man, he would quote Ernest Hemingway, or discuss politics of The Troubles in Ireland during the 70s with me. Like, who did this guy think he was? I was confused. Flustered. And a little hooked. The disappointing part of the story: John was also Australian. Goodbye Irish husband. Oh well, there’s always my next visit to Ireland to find him.
One absolutely freezing cold evening, everyone at the hostel decided it was time to go get extremely sh*t faced have a respectful drink down at Monroe’s. This is where John told me he was in the Navy. A navy man. A tall, whisky drinking, navy man. Thank you, universe.
Four pints of Guinness, two tequila shots and one Margarita later, I knew it was time to turn this confusing platonic friendship into something a little more.
If Dumb & Dumber taught me anything, it was to ‘put the vibe out there’. Sadly, I left my bright orange suit at home, but with some quick thinking I concocted up another *brilliant idea*.
*Please prepare for the dumbest idea you have ever heard (that, next to anything that has ever come out of Donald Trump’s mouth):
I saw John walk towards where we were all sitting. My brain thought it would be a good idea to ‘accidentally’ bump into him – in a cute way of course – I would apologize, and he would sit down next to me. I would then be able to “put out the vibe.” But after you have about 4 pints of Guinness, two tequila shots and one Margarita, one’s depth perception and awareness aren’t as clear as one would think. Shocking, I know. And what I had failed to see was John carrying a Baby Guinness shot in each hand.
With Troy Bolton singing “Now or Never” in my head – I stood up, walked quickly in John’s direction, with an outreached hand I tapped him on the shoulder, he turned swiftly to face me, I failed to stop my feet from walking and smashed into his chest. John dropped both of his shots, and the tiny glasses shattered as soon as they hit the ground. And as I have a habit of tripping on things that aren’t there, I fell backwards right onto my uncoordinated ass. There we were both covered in sticky, milky alcohol *he he* I am so cute. After he helped me off the ground, and I dusted off whatever integrity I had left, I went up to the bar to buy John two new shots. And afterwards, do you know where he sat? Right next to me. Ah, ha! My plan all along…
The night progressed to a bar that was playing solely AC/DC, you know, perfect for a bunch of Aussies who really want to be immersed in the Irish culture. It also meant I had no choice but to whip out my air guitar (of which I am of high skill, but sadly there isn’t much money in air guitar-ing). After drinking all the bars in Galway dry, my skill was questionable. Nonetheless, I climbed atop a speaker near the stage and gave it my all. One misplacement of my left foot saw me, for the second time that evening, land on my uncoordinated ass. “I think it’s home-time miss”, spoke the lovely (scary) pub security guard. I couldn’t agree more, sir.
It is at 4.00am after a night of consuming six different types of liquor, that I always make my best decisions. So, when we exited the pub John gave me the classic “wanna get out of here” line, without a beat I gave him a wink and took his hand. I’m the biggest sucker for a movie moment. Maybe my love for the Lizzie McGuire movie has made me that way. But I really do love those moments. Give me street lights, a cobbled road and the hum of a love song in the background. It’s all I want. Because nights like these don’t happen to girls from rural Victoria. Yet there I was in the middle of a road in Galway, covered in Baby Guinness, snogging a sexy Navy man.
Author’s Note: Drink responsibly kids, never mix Guinness with tequila.
Meet Lilly: I am a twenty-something year old from Melbourne, Australia who has a love for old cities and expensive pale ale. I graduated from Deakin University in 2016 with a degree in Professional and Creative Writing. I know, an Art Major who loves travelling? Groundbreaking. Currently, I’m working as the Marketing & Social Media Manager for an International Business Consultancy Firm (which provides the funds for my travels nicely). Keep up with me on IG.