Gearin' Up
OK, so here’s what’s been going on with me.
I have Internet access, but it sucks, hence my prolonged absence. I’m getting better Internet access on Saturday. I’m heading over to Ireland for a couple of weeks on Monday. It’s a trip I’ve been planning for a while— since last July, in fact, when my brother and I decided to take Angry Pops to Ireland for Father’s Day. Now the time is fast upon us, and in case my plane turns into a submarine or something equally dire, I figured I’d better write something and post it, as my loyal (some would say mentally ill) readership has been jonesing for Piper wit and wisdom for over a month.
Good thing that happened to me over the past few weeks: I went to a book sale put on by the local Elks Club. While I think little of most private clubs and fraternal organizations, I hate the Elks Club, because my grandfather was an Elk, and his club was his excuse to go get plastered and be a jerk. Anyway, I bought a used book, The History of England, vol. II, by Thomas Babington Macaulay, copyright 1880. I have absolutely no interest in this book.
Why, then, did I buy it?
Because while idly leafing through it, I noticed a $100.00 bill folded neatly in the pages.
The book cost me 25 cents. Fuck you, Elks Club.
Bad thing that happened to me: I bought a straight razor at an estate sale that was being held in a dusty old warehouse, which is probably why I didn’t notice the razor stunk like a three-week old corpse in the trunk of a Cadillac in the middle of Death Valley. I don’t mean it was a crappy razor. I mean it literally stinks to high heaven, and no amount of polishing will get the stink off it. Thankfully, the smell seems confined to the handle, or scales, and not the blade. So I’m seriously considering removing the scales and salvaging the blade, for use later on as a restoration project. One thing is certain: I wouldn’t come anywhere near my face with a blade that smelled one-tenth as bad as this one does. Good thing it only cost me two bucks.
People have been asking me the same question for a month or so now: Are you packed yet? At first, I assumed this was their cute and clever way of asking if I was looking forward to the trip, but I soon realized that no, they really wanted to know if I had packed my bags for a trip that was almost a month away. I suppose I should say that all the people who asked me this question are women. Listen up, gals: much like how I fail to understand your collective fascination with shoes, I fail to understand why women feel the need to pack for travel weeks before departure. It doesn’t make sense.
I don’t have an infinite supply of clothes. If they’re all packed, I have nothing to wear.
Speaking of packing, which I’ll be doing this weekend, many of you are probably dying to know what’s going to make it into the Piper’s luggage. I’m only bringing one suitcase and my well-traveled carry-on (which has accompanied me to France, England, Spain, Aruba, Mexico, New York, New Hampshire, and Florida and also doubles as my roleplaying game tote bag), so space is an issue.
What I’m Leaving Behind:
First: the kilt. Sorry to disappoint you all, but both my kilts are staying home. The reason is twofold. First, the kilt, sporran, belt, and hose would take up altogether far too much room in my luggage. Second, the only reason I would bring a kilt is to take Angry Piper pictures for my website, which would necessitate involving my father and brother in taking the pictures. If any of you know my brother, you know immediately that the sheer amount of bullshit I would have to endure for even requesting his complicity in this matter would far outweigh what little amusement “The Angry Piper Tours Ireland” pictures would provide all of you when finally posted. As my brother and I will surely be at each other’s throats by Day Two (it’s a ten day trip), I will do nothing to pour gasoline on the fire. The kilt stays home.
Second: the bagpipes. My bagpipe kit weighs about 20 lbs. It is another thing I would have to check on the airplane. While playing the pipes over the hills and dales of Ireland’s countryside sounds like a blast, see above under “sheer amount of bullshit I would have to endure” and “gasoline on the fire.” Besides, my pipes don’t work all that well. They’re staying home too.
Third: Old Sharpy. While I fully intend to scour the antique and secondhand shops of Ireland’s fair cities for some sweet straight razors, I won’t be bringing one with me. I would need to bring my strop, my brush and my mug as well, and quite frankly I don’t want to have to pack that up between cities. It’s just too much stuff. I’m bringing a Gillette DoubleEdge and some shave gel. It’ll get me through the two weeks for sure, but I already miss Old Sharpy.
What I’m Bringing With Me:
Aside from the obvious toiletries and clothing, here’s what made the list.
First: the books. Although I will be fairly busy enjoying Ireland, I will be reading plenty on this trip. In addition to the two 5-6 hour flights, there will be the time spent secluding myself in the interest of quelling violence ‘twixt Angry Bro and me. I usually blow through 5 books or so on a typical vacation week, but this time I won’t be laying on a beach getting pleasantly drunk all day (I'll be in pubs instead). Nonetheless, I like to be prepared. My reading list for the next two weeks: The Machineries of Joy, by Ray Bradbury; The Snows of Kilimanjaro and other Stories by Ernest Hemingway, The Perfumed Sleeve, by Laura Joh Rowland; The Eyes Still Have It, an anthology of Private Eye stories; The Moon is Down by John Steinbeck; Traitor General by Dan Abnett, and of course my trip would not be complete without The Nasty Bits, by Anthony Bourdain. If I need more reading material, I’ll find it there (see below).
Second: the journal. Two years ago, my good buddy Eve gave me a small, leather-bound journal as a birthday gift. I told her I would hand-scribe my first published short story in it and return it to her along with some sappy dedication: “to my friend of twenty-something years, thanks for all the support, wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, hope you like the story, blah blah blah…” I’ve decided not to do that, because a) I haven’t been published yet and b) because I’m going to Ireland, for fuck’s sake, and I think no better reason to use the journal than to record my impressions and memories of the trip. Maybe I’ll even share them with you all. At the very least, you'll get a "Things I Learned in Ireland" post, like last year's "Things I Learned in Mexico".
Third: the camera. I hate taking pictures. But I’m bringing a digital camera, because I’m going on the trip with my Dad and my brother and the three of us haven’t spent this much time together in decades, nor are we likely to do so again. ’Nuff said.
What I’m Bringing Back:
(Assuming, of course, I make it back; that my plane doesn’t plummet into the ocean where I drown and what remains of my lifeless body is devoured by sharks, or where I crash and miraculously survive on an uncharted island occupied by the remnants of the Dharma Initiative, or something equally as likely.)
First: gifts. Have to look for some green amber, if it’s not prohibitively expensive; and my mother wants a claddagh necklace with the birthstones of her sons in it. Of course, my brother and I were born in the same month, three years apart, so the necklace will contain little in the way of gemstone variety. Also need to find an Aran sweater.
Second: Booze. Pretty self-explanatory. I’m visiting both the Guinness storehouse and the Jameson’s distillery. Also, I plan on sampling as many local beers and gins as possible without inducing alcohol poisoning.
Third: stuff for me. This includes, but is not limited to: used and rare books from Galway, straight razors and shaving paraphernalia, antiques if not prohibitively costly, and of course, music music music. I have decided I will not be limited by the size of my suitcase. If I want something bad enough and it’s too big to haul home with me, I’m shipping it.
Things I Wish I Was Bringing Home With Me:
Pipes: a set of uilleann bagpipes; pipes, bellows, regulators, tenors and all. Of course, since I have no idea how to play them (and they’re crazy expensive), I think I’ll probably pass.
Anyway, just in case I don’t return home for whatever reason (accidental death, going native, or being murdered at my brother’s hands) it’s been swell. Hope to talk to you soon. I’ll have one (at least) for you all.
Slainté!!
I have Internet access, but it sucks, hence my prolonged absence. I’m getting better Internet access on Saturday. I’m heading over to Ireland for a couple of weeks on Monday. It’s a trip I’ve been planning for a while— since last July, in fact, when my brother and I decided to take Angry Pops to Ireland for Father’s Day. Now the time is fast upon us, and in case my plane turns into a submarine or something equally dire, I figured I’d better write something and post it, as my loyal (some would say mentally ill) readership has been jonesing for Piper wit and wisdom for over a month.
Good thing that happened to me over the past few weeks: I went to a book sale put on by the local Elks Club. While I think little of most private clubs and fraternal organizations, I hate the Elks Club, because my grandfather was an Elk, and his club was his excuse to go get plastered and be a jerk. Anyway, I bought a used book, The History of England, vol. II, by Thomas Babington Macaulay, copyright 1880. I have absolutely no interest in this book.
Why, then, did I buy it?
Because while idly leafing through it, I noticed a $100.00 bill folded neatly in the pages.
The book cost me 25 cents. Fuck you, Elks Club.
Bad thing that happened to me: I bought a straight razor at an estate sale that was being held in a dusty old warehouse, which is probably why I didn’t notice the razor stunk like a three-week old corpse in the trunk of a Cadillac in the middle of Death Valley. I don’t mean it was a crappy razor. I mean it literally stinks to high heaven, and no amount of polishing will get the stink off it. Thankfully, the smell seems confined to the handle, or scales, and not the blade. So I’m seriously considering removing the scales and salvaging the blade, for use later on as a restoration project. One thing is certain: I wouldn’t come anywhere near my face with a blade that smelled one-tenth as bad as this one does. Good thing it only cost me two bucks.
People have been asking me the same question for a month or so now: Are you packed yet? At first, I assumed this was their cute and clever way of asking if I was looking forward to the trip, but I soon realized that no, they really wanted to know if I had packed my bags for a trip that was almost a month away. I suppose I should say that all the people who asked me this question are women. Listen up, gals: much like how I fail to understand your collective fascination with shoes, I fail to understand why women feel the need to pack for travel weeks before departure. It doesn’t make sense.
I don’t have an infinite supply of clothes. If they’re all packed, I have nothing to wear.
Speaking of packing, which I’ll be doing this weekend, many of you are probably dying to know what’s going to make it into the Piper’s luggage. I’m only bringing one suitcase and my well-traveled carry-on (which has accompanied me to France, England, Spain, Aruba, Mexico, New York, New Hampshire, and Florida and also doubles as my roleplaying game tote bag), so space is an issue.
What I’m Leaving Behind:
First: the kilt. Sorry to disappoint you all, but both my kilts are staying home. The reason is twofold. First, the kilt, sporran, belt, and hose would take up altogether far too much room in my luggage. Second, the only reason I would bring a kilt is to take Angry Piper pictures for my website, which would necessitate involving my father and brother in taking the pictures. If any of you know my brother, you know immediately that the sheer amount of bullshit I would have to endure for even requesting his complicity in this matter would far outweigh what little amusement “The Angry Piper Tours Ireland” pictures would provide all of you when finally posted. As my brother and I will surely be at each other’s throats by Day Two (it’s a ten day trip), I will do nothing to pour gasoline on the fire. The kilt stays home.
Second: the bagpipes. My bagpipe kit weighs about 20 lbs. It is another thing I would have to check on the airplane. While playing the pipes over the hills and dales of Ireland’s countryside sounds like a blast, see above under “sheer amount of bullshit I would have to endure” and “gasoline on the fire.” Besides, my pipes don’t work all that well. They’re staying home too.
Third: Old Sharpy. While I fully intend to scour the antique and secondhand shops of Ireland’s fair cities for some sweet straight razors, I won’t be bringing one with me. I would need to bring my strop, my brush and my mug as well, and quite frankly I don’t want to have to pack that up between cities. It’s just too much stuff. I’m bringing a Gillette DoubleEdge and some shave gel. It’ll get me through the two weeks for sure, but I already miss Old Sharpy.
What I’m Bringing With Me:
Aside from the obvious toiletries and clothing, here’s what made the list.
First: the books. Although I will be fairly busy enjoying Ireland, I will be reading plenty on this trip. In addition to the two 5-6 hour flights, there will be the time spent secluding myself in the interest of quelling violence ‘twixt Angry Bro and me. I usually blow through 5 books or so on a typical vacation week, but this time I won’t be laying on a beach getting pleasantly drunk all day (I'll be in pubs instead). Nonetheless, I like to be prepared. My reading list for the next two weeks: The Machineries of Joy, by Ray Bradbury; The Snows of Kilimanjaro and other Stories by Ernest Hemingway, The Perfumed Sleeve, by Laura Joh Rowland; The Eyes Still Have It, an anthology of Private Eye stories; The Moon is Down by John Steinbeck; Traitor General by Dan Abnett, and of course my trip would not be complete without The Nasty Bits, by Anthony Bourdain. If I need more reading material, I’ll find it there (see below).
Second: the journal. Two years ago, my good buddy Eve gave me a small, leather-bound journal as a birthday gift. I told her I would hand-scribe my first published short story in it and return it to her along with some sappy dedication: “to my friend of twenty-something years, thanks for all the support, wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, hope you like the story, blah blah blah…” I’ve decided not to do that, because a) I haven’t been published yet and b) because I’m going to Ireland, for fuck’s sake, and I think no better reason to use the journal than to record my impressions and memories of the trip. Maybe I’ll even share them with you all. At the very least, you'll get a "Things I Learned in Ireland" post, like last year's "Things I Learned in Mexico".
Third: the camera. I hate taking pictures. But I’m bringing a digital camera, because I’m going on the trip with my Dad and my brother and the three of us haven’t spent this much time together in decades, nor are we likely to do so again. ’Nuff said.
What I’m Bringing Back:
(Assuming, of course, I make it back; that my plane doesn’t plummet into the ocean where I drown and what remains of my lifeless body is devoured by sharks, or where I crash and miraculously survive on an uncharted island occupied by the remnants of the Dharma Initiative, or something equally as likely.)
First: gifts. Have to look for some green amber, if it’s not prohibitively expensive; and my mother wants a claddagh necklace with the birthstones of her sons in it. Of course, my brother and I were born in the same month, three years apart, so the necklace will contain little in the way of gemstone variety. Also need to find an Aran sweater.
Second: Booze. Pretty self-explanatory. I’m visiting both the Guinness storehouse and the Jameson’s distillery. Also, I plan on sampling as many local beers and gins as possible without inducing alcohol poisoning.
Third: stuff for me. This includes, but is not limited to: used and rare books from Galway, straight razors and shaving paraphernalia, antiques if not prohibitively costly, and of course, music music music. I have decided I will not be limited by the size of my suitcase. If I want something bad enough and it’s too big to haul home with me, I’m shipping it.
Things I Wish I Was Bringing Home With Me:
Pipes: a set of uilleann bagpipes; pipes, bellows, regulators, tenors and all. Of course, since I have no idea how to play them (and they’re crazy expensive), I think I’ll probably pass.
Anyway, just in case I don’t return home for whatever reason (accidental death, going native, or being murdered at my brother’s hands) it’s been swell. Hope to talk to you soon. I’ll have one (at least) for you all.
Slainté!!
Labels: Angry Piper, Ireland
posted by The Angry Piper at 4:49 PM
9 comments
