Planes, Trains, and Go Karts - Wide Awake

I opened my eyes and looked at the clock on my PDA. 10:45. OH NO!!! We'd overslept! How did that happen?

My teenaged daughter Kelsey had spent two years talking me into this trip. Just the two of us. 32 days. Backpacks. No schedule. My only lifeline home would be my trusty little HP Jornada PDA with wifi.

This was not a good way to begin.

Because she was paying her own way, we were on a tight budget. That would mean staying in hostels, riding trains, and using public transportation.

We started in Dublin. We arrived after a long overnight flight and spent the day wandering around the crowded,  drunken city. Then, using our guidebook for recommendations, we checked ourselves into our very first hostel. I felt so out of place. It was a little scary but exciting at the same time. Checkout time was 11 a.m. the next morning.

When I saw that we'd overslept, I woke Kelsey up, and we quickly threw our packs together and headed past a perplexed-looking clerk and out the door into the dreary Irish daylight.

I didn't know much about the customs of Ireland. I expected that most kids would be in school this time of day. But we didn't see any children at all. Not even babies in strollers.

And the stores were closed. Only the bars were open. I remembered that when I was a kid, it was fairly common for stores to be closed on Mondays. Was that what was going on?

Kelsey and I wandered for a couple blocks charting our plans, still in a sleepy,  jet-lagged fog. This dreary city seemed to be getting drearier. It was almost as if ... no ...

I pulled my Jornada out of my bag and looked again at the clock. Just after 11 o'clock.

11 o'clock p.m.

11 o'clock p.m. on Sunday night!! Could that be true? But it wasn't dark. Were we that far north?

Yes. I realized now that it was true. Somehow, I'd slept for only an hour and had misread the clock. The dreariness was, in face, twilight. And why, then, would there be anything but bars open on a Sunday night?

Sheepishly, we headed back to the hostel. I explained my folly to the clerk and asked if we could please have our beds back.

He very politely didn't laugh at us. At least until we were out of sight.

Although Kelsey was a good sport about my blunder, this was a story that she will never, ever let me live down. She keeps reminding me. And, as further penance,  it was her idea that I share it here with you.

So this is for you, Kelsey.