once we soaked up all the sun in ireland, we decided it was time to fly to germany.
on the morning of our flight, i woke up feeling anxious and sick, which happens sometimes when i wake up really early and feel rushed or unprepared or nervous about something. in this case, the thing i was nervous about was: how are kaitlyn and i getting to the airport, anyway?
while i sat in the bathroom upstairs, fanning myself and trying not to vomit, kaitlyn breakfasted downstairs with the beloved mrs. doyle. when i eventually joined them, mrs. doyle told us we could take a bus to the airport – that there was a bus stop just down the road. well, by the end of breakfast, we realized we didn’t have enough time to make it to the bus stop (traveling with giant backpacks isn’t very conducive to running to bus stops with only .4 seconds to spare). since calling a taxi would have been absurdly expensive, mrs. doyle offered to drive us to the bus stop herself.
on the way to the bus stop, she reassured us that we had plenty of time; that had we walked/run there, we would have been pushing it, but that being driven, on the other hand, would allow us enough time and then some.
imagine our surprise, then, when we rounded the corner and saw the bus idling at the stop, about to drive away.
and that’s when it happened; mrs. doyle – the 80 year old elderly irish woman, mrs. doyle – sprang into action before neither kaitlyn nor myself could blink. she put the car in park, jumped out from behind the wheel and ran into the middle of the road – stopping oncoming traffic even! – waving her arms in a frantic attempt to get the bus driver’s attention.
and that is how we made it onto the bus, and then onto the airport in time, and then to germany on time, all thanks to that beloved mrs. doyle.
and that is also how we stopped blaming mrs. doyle for the beach fiasco, too.
i could go on about what a long and tiring day it was (there were some bus ride/train station issues as well, of course), or how depleted with energy we were by the time we made it to germany, but i think the amount of sweat in my bangs says that in and of itself. you know?