At last,
Rathdrum is in sight.
I thought
the way back
would be a lot easier,
but I failed to realize
how many hills
I had covered
on the way out.
I coast into town
and pull up
to the tourist office.
I glance at my watch:
1:12.
Oh, no wonder
it's closed.
Everything in Ireland
closes at lunch hour
except the pubs.
Well, there's no sense
in trying to return
this bike
until after 2:00.
I set my pack down,
put my camera up,
get my trench coat out,
and stand up to
unruffle it
before putting it
back on.
Let's see,
wallet... check.
Good.
26 kilometers
of biking
has a way
of working up
one's appetite.
I glance around
to spot my options.
The pub just down
the sidewalk
is closer than
the one across the way.
Easy decision.
-------
I walk in
to a quaint atmosphere:
very relaxed and quiet.
I shuffle up
to the counter
and check the menu.
"What can I get
for you?"
asks a young lady
with brown eyes
and brown hair
pulled back in a ponytail.
"How about
a burger with chips,
a 7-Up,
and a Kit Kat."
"Okay.
If you want to find a seat
I'll bring it out
to you when
it's ready."
"Thanks."
-------
I study over my map
as I finish the last sip
of my drink.
Waterford it is.
I just hope
I can make it
that far today.
I fold up my map,
put it back into
my trench coat pocket,
and get up to pay.
That's odd,
where is my pack?
"Oh no...,"
I think out loud.
"What is it?"
the girl behind
the counter asks.
"I left my army pack
sitting on the sidewalk
before I came in here.
Man. It had my camera
and all my film in it."
"Do you want to go
and check for it?"
"No. It's gone by now."
Without hesitating,
the girl walks over
to the door,
pokes her heads out
and looks up and down
the sidewalk.
"Is it green?"
she asks.
"Yeah,"
I sigh
with relief.
I go out to fetch it.
Amazing.
It sat out here
for almost an hour
untouched.
I walk back
into the pub
to pay my bill.
"See, that's what I love
about Ireland,"
I say to the girl.
"If I had left
it on the sidewalk
in the States,
it would have been gone
in less than five minutes."
She responds
with a bewildered look
of disbelief.
"I'm serious."
These people
don't know
how good they have it.
-------
Okay, so maybe
I should have
just waited the two hours
for the next bus.
I watch what must be
the hundredth car fade
over the hill.
My back and feet
are beginning to hurt
again.
I check my watch.
Thirty minutes since
I left Rathdrum.
Still no ride.
Come on, Lord,
can't you help me out?
At least the roads
are more open here.
It's better then hugging
a stone wall
and praying
not to get hit
by a speeding bus.
Sigh.
I have to remember
to be nicer
to hitchhikers
when I return to the States.
I turn around
to see a small
delivery truck
slowing down.
Thank You, Jesus.
As the truck stops,
I open the passenger door.
"Where're you going?"
a young man
with curly, black hair asks.
"Waterford."
"I live in Arklow,
I can get you
that far.
There is a bus
in the afternoon
from Arklow
to Waterford."
"Great.
Thanks for the ride.
I was about to give up."
"You're welcome.
My name is Patrick."
"I'm Todd."
"Been a bad day
for hitching, eh?"
"Yeah.
I walked from Rathdrum
to where you
picked me up.
You were the first one
who even offered."
"It's not always easy
to get a ride
in the off-season.
During tourist season
there are more cars
on this road.
I have to stop here
to make my last
delivery of the day.
I'll be just a moment."
"Okay."
I watch him
carry a carton of eggs
into a roadside store.
I take this time
to stretch
my aching back
and legs
Lord, bless him
for his generosity.
-------
"Have you ever heard
of the show
'Ballykissangel?'"
"No."
"Well, it's this
evening show
in England
about a small Irish town.
They film it
in this little town
that we're coming to.
There's really nothing special
about this town,
but ever since the show began
people have been coming
from England to visit.
Now it's a tourist attraction.
All because they saw it
on the tele."
"Yeah. I wonder
if they feel disappointed
when they get here
and find out
that it's really
just another little town?"
-------
"Well here you are.
The bus picks up
on that corner.
There is a sign
that tells the times.
Good luck."
"Thanks again.
God bless."
I get out
and walk over
to the sign.
Waterford: 5:15.
I check my watch:
3:47.
Oh well.
At least
the weather's nice.
I step into
the first shop
I come to
and buy
an ice cream bar
and a 7-Up.
I walk back out
and look around
for a bench.
Nothing.
I spot a concrete wall
along the sidewalk
where it crosses
the train tracks.
Better than nothing.
As I sit down,
I imagine falling
to the tracks below.
I try not to think
of the height
and pretend this
is just like
any other wall.
The sun warms me
as my trench coat
soaks up its rays.
I take my journal
out of my pack
and prepare
to take a few notes.
"Do you believe
in Jesus?"
I look up
to see a man
with unkempt, black hair
and nervous eyes
wearing a grey sweatsuit
and tennis shoes.
"Yes, I do."
"I like your cross."
"Thanks,
it's always been
my favorite."
"Are you from
around here?"
"No."
"Oh, cause we're
starting a group
for young people
who believe in Jesus.
We're going to
go around and tell
people about Jesus."
"Oh. You mean
on the streets?"
"Yeah, sometimes."
"Oh, okay."
"Well, stay faithful
'cause soon Jesus
is going to come
and take over."
"Yes, you too."
"Bye."
"God bless."
Interesting.
That guy's obviously
not playing with
a full deck of cards.
After all,
he couldn't tell
that I'm not
from around here.