After our adventures we took a quick nap (Clint took a long one) and then we went into Newmarket on Fergus for dinner. We stopped at The Hunter's Lodge for some great food, a beer and some conversation with and older man at the bar about baby sheep. Then we decided to hop to another bar. We ended up at the aptly named, The Pub, and I immediately realized that my leather jacket's zipper had broken with me in it.
Clint abandoned me to the bar to go pee and one of the older gentlemen at the bar watched as I struggled to try to fix the zipper. He was like, "I'd try to help you, but I don't think your husband would like that." I eventually had to take the jacket off over my head and once we got the zipper free try (and fail a few times) to remember that I couldn't actually zip it.
It turned out that this gentlemen was the head chef at the Dromoland and once we had said that we just got engaged the day before him and the other three men at the bar started buying us drinks. We literally paid for the first round and that was it. A dude at the end of the bar that had such a heavy accent (compounded by the fact that he was definitely drunk) that I couldn't understand him was buying us different types of shots. And they were all ribbing each other about things and getting into arguments over nothing (apparently the Chinese restaurant down the street is run by Malaysians).
It won't be a surprise to anyone that getting up the next morning was not a fun experience, but we did, and we took an hour detour into Galway to explore. And I'm sorry to say, I got one picture. Totally Clint's fault. And the downpour of rain right when I took my camera out. But! The picture legitimizing my love of whiskey and ginger ale and all the people that look at me when I order that can suck it.