Christy is Evil, and Cameron is a Year Older

Dear Mike and Christy,

Cameron and I made it to Ireland relatively unscathed, despite the best efforts of Christy to get everyone unexpectedly trashed that last night in Barcelona. I hope you two hurt as much as Cameron and I did when we went to the airport yesterday. Nonetheless, I am suffering from separation anxiety and am counting the minutes until we complain together about another bland serving of fish and chips.

I am having flashbacks to my Dublin trip almost five years ago, when Jacob somehow convinced me that I should ante up and spend some money for possibly the first time in my life. We are staying about four blocks south of St Stephen's Green and Trinity, which is where Jake studied. I don't know how the hotel thing has worked out for you in Paris, but Dublin has kept alive our streak of ridiculously well-located hotels. Mike, you'd love it: the longest walk so far has been for about 15 minutes.

Anyhow, it's 11:30 a.m., high time to go get another drink. Yesterday we went on the literary pub crawl, and today we are hitting up the Guinness factory. And, in the worst of worst-case scenarios, Cameron managed to win second-place in a trivia contest last night during the pub crawl. His well-timed guess that Samuel Beckett was the only of four Irish authors to be on a national sports team meant that he won a mini-bottle of Jameson, which will probably mean bad things for me.

hugs and kisses,
matt