In an attempt to get a taste of the local culture, Rich and I took the Irish airline, Aer Lingus, on our flight to Dublin. I decided to go into the trip without any preconceived notions about Irish people, even though everything I'd read and seen about them portrayed them as drunken louts.
The first thing I noticed when Rich and I boarded the plane was that there were no seats, or at least seats in the traditional sense of airplane seats. Instead, the entire interior of the plane was a giant pub, with stools and a long bar stocked with Guinness and Jameson Irish Whiskey. While Rich flipped through an Irish Accent-Proper English dictionary, I decided I'd try to mix with the natives and found myself a seat at the bar just as the plane was taking off. When we reached cruising altitude about 10 minutes later, a gruff Irishman finally sat next to me. The following interaction took place:
Irishman: What's yer name, mate?
Me: Dan Berger.
Irishman: Ah, a Hee-brew are ya? No matter, me name's Seamus O'Reilly. Nice to meet ya. (to bartender) A pint for Dan, and ten pints and 5 shooters of whiskey for me.
(Bartender does not think this order to be oddly large, and pours the drinks)
[10 minutes later]
(I am half-way done with my pint, Seamus has finished all of his drinks)
Seamus (slurring words now): Hey Benjamin Disraeli, are you finishing that pint?
Me: Are, are you talking to me?
Seamus: So it's a fight ye want? Well then it's a fight ye'll get!
(Seamus pulls up his sleeves and puts up fisticuffs, and at this point looks like the Notre Dame mascot)
Me: Jesus, just take the rest of the pint, you crazy fuck. Here (handing the pint glass to Seamus)
Seamus: It's too late for that, Netanyahu, we're fixin' ta brawl!
Me: Really, I don't want to fight you.
Seamus (speaking to everyone else on flight, who are mostly American): GO ON! Who's man enough to fight an O'REILLY?!
(No one answers him)
(Enter a Fat Irish Woman)
Fat Irish Woman: Seamus O'Reilly!
Seamus: Aww Mary, what is it this time, ya wench?
Mary: Ya need ta get back to the cockpit, Seamus. The auto-pilot can't handle this turbulence.
Seamus: I'm drinkin' and brawlin', I've no time for flyin'. Last chance, who's gonna fight me?
(No one responds)
Seamus: Then aye must defend me honor the only way aye can.
(Seamus breaks a glass bottle over his head, and passes out)
Mary then attempted to call each of her 29 children, aged 1-8, for advice. But all of them were too hammered at various pubs to speak coherently. Fortunately, Rich had learned how to fly a plane from his days as my assistant, and we landed safely.