The Two Thousand Euro Plan (1)

Entry 400! Occasion will be marked at some later stage

On Saturday the 13th of September, I went into town to meet up with Elaine and Sinead. Now that was fun; I didn’t think it would seen as my last couple of excursions into our nation’s capital fell flat on their collective faces. I wander into some pub, meet with some people I barely know and the whole thing sucks bollocks til I get up and leave, sometimes stopping off in Aihua and writing about it trying to make sense of my unique “social” problems. Maybe I should just go ahead and be an alcoholic, but something inside tells me it wasn’t my destiny. I think it’s my liver that’s saying that but sure anyway…

Elaine and Sinead are going to Australia. Now some of you may vaguely recall that I kind of intended to go too, going so far as to attend an information night on the whole area of traveling to Australia and New Zealand to work for a year. I took the brochures, ate the garlic mushrooms (divine dahling) but naturally being Joe, I did nuffin. A very loose attempt to kinda put aside some money was scrapped as I began to think Elaine and Sinead didn’t want a bloke with them. It did seem a little daft. So I just did nay bother.

That Saturday night I was out with them, I learned of their full itinerary, which I’m glad I’m not a part of. They were to fly to Thailand for month and then Bali, before moving on to Perth in Australia in an attempt to get work. I think that’s daft, but their hearts were set on it. It’s daft because…well first there’s Thailand. I mean, I’m sure it’s lovely and everything but the place has an inordinate amount of horror stories coming out of it. I mean, at least when you travel within the EU there’s so much of a safety net. You have everything built to the same standards; harmonized legal systems (apart from the bizarre French prohibition on vasectomies but then if that’s your idea of a holiday….) and above all, you have several thousand common, tangible cultural, social and economic reference points. But Thailand…I mean…I’m sure some day I might like to go there, but it’s a bit too…foreign. I don’t mean that in a xenophobic way; Ireland’s equally weird to Thais. But Jesus…Elaine’s gone to America, Sinead’s gone to Germany and then they both went to France and Belgium for a week. Then to go from that to…ah look, it’s their life. And another thing; Thailand’s cheap, ok, but how does one have enough money for a month there, a week or two in Bali and the few weeks in Oz where you’re gonna be without work. Australia’s going through a mild depression right now and there’s quite a few Aussies here working. I dunno, maybe I got it all wrong. I’m being to logical about it all. They’re going for the experience. Or rather, they went.

I spent Saturday night in Sosume on George’s Street (allegations untrue) and after a lot of himming and hawing I went back with them to a friend of Sinead’s house. Which turned out to be her sister’s apartment in the IFSC, which is like Ballymun but with Alfa Romeos and a…dock. It impressed me in a kind of “wasn’t this pretty alright for late 80’s Ireland?” way. Anyway, the three of us stayed up and talked with the girl, Orla from Wickla, and I realized something. I deserved that; the talk. The simple, enjoyable chat. I realized I spend far too much time with shitheads I don’t like. I suppose it’s the diplomat in me, but I can’t stand not getting on with people. And this means I stay friends with people I don’t really like. Take my cousin Peter for example, the ultimate mirror image of me had I been brought up in Mayo instead of….that place. Peter’s a shithead, a complete waste of space. He’s this racist, sexist, hypocritical arsehole that’s too loud, wild, off the rails and….see where I’m goin with this. I relate to some of the negative sides of his personality because I too am loud, wild and off the rails. But I’m also shy, romantic (trying to recover from that crap with counseling from Kerouac), thoughtful (ok, that’s pushing it) and…damn it, people bring out the best in me. I need to insist on hanging around with people I like instead of faking it.

I ran with Elaine and Sinead to their bus the next day. I hugged them each and….no, didn’t cry. I felt utterly drained when the bus pulled off though. It was like the sword was just pulled out of me all of a sudden, those few seconds when your mouth is open. I marched to Bewley’s for breakfast and for the next week or so I was thinking a lot. So I kind of abstained from OD as I formulated a new policy.

By chance, my day off was switched at the last minute and I found myself with last Wednesday off, the day Elaine and Sinead were to fly to Bangkok. So I drove to the airport with my presents. I had made Elaine a CD of bootlegs (Daft Punk vs U2 – “With Or Without Da Funk” was one memorable track), a copy of “By The Way” (which rocks my world, by the way) and a card. I hadn’t sent Elaine anything for her birthday so I was making up for that. I got them both $10 notes to take with them to Australia (only worth €5.30 or so but how are they to know?!) and for that, they got emotional. I sat with them in O’Brien’s in the departures lounge. It was terrible really, but I wasn’t going to dwell on that aspect. A third traveler had joined them, a girl Elaine knew for years called Sarah. Sarah was….incredibly cool and were it not for my intensely logical mindset, I’d have thought we were friends for years. It was like some kind of joke. The two girls I care about so much leaving for the other side of the world, along with another amazing girl I’d just met. I was clueless, I was bewildered. This can’t happen. This is wrong. The new policy must be formulated. It must be formulated quickly, implemented quickly and stuck to rigidly. Failure was possible, but only due to matters out of my control. The plan was to be gospel. One plan to save Joe from a life in a call centre. The Two Thousand Euro Plan.