Guest post: How Novy lost his pants in Ireland
Jan 31st, 2010 Posted in Love, Travel | 2 comments »NovySan sent this out as an accompaniment to my blog post about our trip to Ireland. I’m reposting it here so that Julia can read it.
“The trip was filled with wonderful people, odd sychronicities, and good Craic. (Craic is the Irish term for good conversation, good times, hanging with friends, etc. Not Crack Cocaine.
“One story sums it up best for me. It occurred during the St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Dublin. We had been invited to participate, rather than spectate, and found ourselves dressed in tie dye, faces painted, pushing a 400 pound sound system up and down the hills of Dublin. (I know, Dublin SEEMS flat. It’s not.) As a set of grandstands approached, I noticed I was having a little trouble walking. My stride seemed clipped. We were halted in front of the grandstand and I found out why I was having trouble walking. My costume pants had worked their way down past my hips, and just at that moment, they dropped to my ankles. Quickly grabbing my pants and frantically pulling them up, I noticed not 5 feet to my left, a seated chap in a green robe, with a very impressive gold necklace around his shoulders, a woman seated next to him, and a police officer with an ornate gold mace staring directly at me.
“Yes, my pants had fallen to my ankles 5 feet directly in front of the
Lord Mayor of Dublin.
“After this I had no trouble smiling for the crowd as I giggled the rest of the parade route. It was only at the end when I told our host what had happened that he informed me that the woman seated next to the Lord Mayor, was in fact, THE PRESIDENT OF IRELAND.
“So that was my St Patrick’s Day. How was yours? 
“Sliante!”
