I have a lot of nice memories about my trip to Dublin, but none of them involves going to the pubs. You would think that a bar full of Irish people would be a drinker's paradise, but they actually seemed to take a North Korean approach to outsiders. It was like I stole their pot o' gold or something. One guy called me a "septic tank" (completely unprovoked, mind you), which I later learned was Cockney slang for "Yank." Where were the ruddy-faced chaps in cable-knit sweaters and rubber boots, whose pipes fit directly into the gap where their tooth used to be? The rest of my trip was spent wandering around town and... More >>>