Eavesdropping On A Conversation At Dublin Airport.
I walk slowly over to the hard, plastic seats near the big windows, take my heavy Eastpak rucksack off my right shoulder and plonk myself on a chair. My brain is threatening to explode, probably because of the lack of sleep and the combination of cocktails and vodkas I drank the night before. I’m waiting for my flight from Dublin to Amsterdam and need a bit of peace and quiet. So, for now, I find a quieter place to sit, in order to avoid a big group of boisterous, orange-clad Dutch guys on the other side of the room, who can be heard joking and laughing over everybody else at the gate.
“So did ya see the match yesterday?” says this young, blond haired girl to her friend. These two girls are sitting opposite me and I can’t help listening to their conversation. Blondie looks like she’s in her early twenties, wearing a black leather jacket, a red v-necked jumper, chequered red and black woollen skirt and knee-high scuffed black boots. Her friend looks a bit older and has a strong Irish accent like her companion. Her mass of curly black hair looks like it’s hard to control, as she constantly pushes back stray curls from her eyes with her forefinger. “No, what match?” her friend asks. “The Leinster football final…. you know, between Louth and Meath” says Blondie with a bit of agitation in her voice.
“I didn’t but go on, tell me anyway” says the curly-headed friend. “Well, you wouldn’t believe what happened” Blondie replied, touching her friend on her right knee. “Meath cheated…the feckers! In the last minute of injury time, Meath scored a goal. But because the ref didn’t see that your man dived to get the ball across the line, which is illegal, the goal was allowed and there was a pitch invasion” says Blondie. “Go way, you’re not serious, wha?” says her friend, as she leans backwards in disbelief. “Yep.This fella, one of the players, had to put his arms around the ref to try and protect him and escort him off the pitch. But they were screaming abuse at him and calling him names, like you know. ‘Twas disgraceful. The scumbags” says the blond haired girl, the pitch of her voice escalating as she tells the story.
“And there was childer there, like members of your own family” says Blondie, as she uncrosses her right knee and stamps her foot on the floor. “Jaysus that’s desperate” says the curly-headed friend, the lines between her eyebrows visible now, as she screws up her face in horror. “Yeah, it was absolutely disgraceful. And your man got a yellow card. It was absolutely ridic….” “Aer Lingus Flight EI603 to Amsterdam would like to invite passengers seated in rows twenty to thirty to board……”