Olé olé olé! Euro Cup Final Game in Galway

That night, Jenny and Rick and I headed out to the Quays, where all of Galway's most popular nocturnal venues could be found.  We randomly picked a place called the King's Head, as it seemed to have the most craic (and the biggest TV).  In the spirit of competition, Jenny and I went head-to-head, Jenny rooting for Italy and I rooting for Spain in the Euro Cup final game.  The pub was standing-room only, as throngs of Spaniards, Italians, and other fans packed the place, shouting and tossing balloons in the air.  We found a good spot by the TV and took turns pushing our way to the bar to get rounds of beer.

The game turned out to be a blowout, with Spain winning 4-0.  Jenny wasn't too amused by the outcome, and she and Rick left shortly after the game was over.  My team had won, however, and I was having much too much of a good time to call it quits just yet!  While I was outside smoking, a very tall man with very large blue plugs in his earlobes came to join me.  "Are you from Alabama?" he asked, much to my surprise.  I admitted it, but he never told me how he knew that. (I assume he caught a glimpse of my wallet as I was paying the barman)  He was from Galway, and he was out with a group of friends that night.  We all made introductions, and I was instantly a part of the group.  Jimmy (blue plugs guy), Damien, Elizabeth (Damien's girlfriend), and the rest of the group escorted me to not one, but three nightclubs that night, and all took turns paying for my drinks!  The city was alive with sportsfans running through the streets, and nobody was a stranger.  I danced to Michael Jackson and Britney Spears, met people from all over the world, and got to see Galway from the locals' perspective.  Elizabeth could speak Irish, and did so quite frequently (though I sort of think she was insulting me more often than not, as her boyfriend did more than his fair share of buying my drinks), and by the end of the night, I was known to all at the club by my nickname, Alabama.

When the club got so crowded that I was having trouble keeping track of my friends, I decided to call it a night before I was too drunk to find my way back to my hostel.  Armed with a city map and a very poor sense of direction, I eventually found my way home and fell into bed, oblivious to the comings and goings that are so common in the wee hours at a hostel.

The next day would bring me to the Cliffs of Moher, and a full day of sightseeing, so the sound sleep I so miraculously enjoyed was very much appreciated!