While in Dublin last weekend it began to rain and pour. Because of this, and because stores in Dublin close at 6 p.m. on Sunday, TM and I ended up in an alley-way pub.
There was live music and soon loads of other equally drenched patrons filled the pub.
There was laughing. There was dancing.
There were…song requests.
“Play Heart of Gold!” The guys at the table behind us kept shouting
“I'm not a jukebox.” The singer retorted.
TM and I looked at eachother, knowingly.
“Americans.” We said in unison.
We weren't wrong either.
Our hunch was confirmed when most of the crowd began to dance.
You know that movie Night at the Roxbury?
I always thought those dance moves were made up.
Our Irish friend Tom was sitting next to me and another patron walked up to him.
“Can you tell which of the people dancing are American?” He asked.
Tom nodded. Then pointed.
TM and I looked at eachother (our telepathy still working) and said (once again) in unison, “I'm not dancing.”