My working title for this post was “On Being The Lamest Person In Naas. Ever.” But I’m reading Lewis Carroll at the moment so I thought I would take inspiration from my surroundings.
On this Friday night, the first official night of the festival, where am I? Cosy in my pjs, watching Penn and Teller on Jonathan Ross. And I am happy out. At half 6 this morning, Amy and I donated our supplies, food and toilet paper and torches and such, to our friends and trekked over three buses back to our haven, our home, Limerick city. Perhaps there’s an irony in the sense of security one feels approaching Limerick bus station, considering its notorious reputation. But I love it (:
Getting to these three buses was an ordeal in itself. We started lining for the shuttle bus at 7:20 just to be sure we could get the Naas to Kildare at quarter past 8. But 20 minutes passed, the crowd waiting gets larger and suddenly you are told there has to be a line and you get pushed right to the back. People get moved, another line forms, and you realise three buses have left without you and your stomach spasms are getting stronger and your medicine is just not kicking in. Add to this the fact that your new and old Kerry folk are now in the line with you and their lasting impression of you is clutching a gate, screaming profanities at both the buses and your own digestive tract. Luckily, I have amazing friends who assure the organisers that we are a medical priority and we finally get a bus out of the place.
Kildare was nice. We found a cafe with epic soup and lovely passers by who kept asking were excited for the festival. The wellies were such a giveaway. We decided it was easiest to smile and nod and used our time together to have a frienaissance (she moved schools last year) and plan out our next adventure (Dundrum Shopping Centre, perhaps (: ) and also discuss the joy that was not wearing pants. I have this whole issue with wearing pants lately. The comfort of leggings, skirts and shorts is terribly appealing by comparison. Comfy as.
I’m not even disappointed. I prefer to be at home. Prefer to hang with the family today, chat to my mammy, plan to go to classical concerts with my daddy, have a sca with Aimee on the phone and be promised a salad made by my boy on Sunday. Although I did have some truly lovely moments yesterday, it did just get too much. My slight claustrophobia caused a complete episode when I was on the phone to my mom in my tiny, tiny tent and like 4 people crashed into it. I swear I thought I was getting slashed. I heard way too many stories to not be terribly paranoid. On the upside, we made friends with a lovely bus driver on our way up (he called my socks silly and warned me not lose my hat – but in the nicest possible way (: ) and dammit, I looked nice. Well, festival nice. In spite of all the looks I got ha. And I got to spend time with people who I wouldn’t usually have the chance to see too often. Which I adored.
Like I said to my nana as I came in home, it’s character building. Sure it’s an experience at least.