I Lost my Damn Tooth in Dublin

So…not an hour into my 10 hour layover in Dublin, and a sesame bagel won a fight with my front tooth. To clarify, about two weeks ago I had chipped off most of one of my top front teeth while celebrating a David Ortiz walk-off home-run in the stands of Fenway (my mouth hit my friend Jon’s head…). That very night I had the tooth repaired, but apparently it was not on strongly enough because a bite into a soft bagel ripped it out again. I spent all day pretending that I was just another stout, Irish rugby player. OK so I actually didn’t pretend that, but i thought about how a chipped tooth in Ireland is probably indicative of rugby, or maybe boozin’ hooligans. Either way, it kind of sucked, but the good people at the Skidmore-in-Madrid office here have made me an appointment for tomorrow afternoon.

As far as this weekend is concerned, well, I am concerned. While the week-long festival in my soon-to-be-hometown, Arcos de la Frontera, has eliminated cheap hotel rooms, apparently my choice to stay in nearby city Jerez de la Frontera (birthplace/namesake of sherry) was ill-advised, as the 20 minute drive is really not all that common a bus route for some, let’s just say Spanish reason. So it might be an even more hectic experience than I had anticipated, with a real time limit to my apartment/Belgian roommate hunting (more on that as events unfold). Now I’m out into my old stomping ground of the Barrio de las Letras/Plaza Santa Ana neighborhood. My hostel, Cat’s Hostel (pretty damn sweet place, by the way), is right here, so I’m gonna meet up with intermittent madrileña friend Arielle for drinks and tapas.

Buenas noches, tíos.

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~ by lincolnbrody on September 27, 2007.

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