Shane and the lads have narrowly beaten the Irish team in their race to see who can get home from the World Cup earliest (probably).
It’s been a tumultuous week for this merry band of Irishmen. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried and we’ve said “Jesus, that doesn’t sound like a good idea” in unison with the lads that were living the dream whilst we sat at our desks. Defying all those hippies that tell us excess alcohol is bad for you, the lads have made it back in one piece. Somehow.
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Montpellier
Our nights out started in our hotel room with bottles of quality cheap-ass champagne and usually ended with the classic French gourmet food of kebabs. Our first night out there was unintentionally quiet as the club we were told to go to was completely empty, but we made the most it with a bottle of tequila between 5 and did some shots, licking salt off a bald Scotman’s head. More lineouts nearly decapitated Darren whose head got a little too close to a fan for comfort.
We learned a few lessons from our time in Montpellier, firstly never go to a hair dresser without knowing how to speak French. Secondly, is that the vents of the underground metro provide a great dance floor for recreating the video for Michael Jackson’s Earth Song video. Thirdly, girls tend not to like the chant of Mika’s “Big girls you are beautiful” changed to “Fat mots, you are beautiful” especially while pointing!
Our favourite night out was in a bar owned by a guy we met on the tram back from the Tonga game. 12 jagerbombers for €35 - we made the most of it with many rounds bought and a few free rounds from our mate from the train. He took over the DJ box and changed all music to anything Irish related and we all have a new found respect for the Drop Kick Murphys.
We all woke with sore heads but on the plus side Irish/Dutch relations were improved when one of our group went on safari and woke up beside a hippo. And Darren got shat on by a bird (the flying type) so our mood was lightened significantly.
Lille, I mean Lyon
We got a random train, thinking we were going to Lille, but as it turns out we ended up in Lyon. When we got there everyone pointed us towards the youth hostel for the best place to stay, so we hiked 15 minutes up the hill only to find the bloody place was full. Our next best cheap alternative was a dingy little hotel beside the prison, I think we were the only guests who didn’t pay by the hour. Durty!!! Lyon, renowned for its gastronomic delights wasn’t a big hit with some of the lads who got steaks so rare that a good vet could have gotten it back on its feet.
Paris (for a day)
We got to the train station to find that there was only one TGV left that would get us to Paris on time but the only seats available were in 1st class. So we paid the money as we didn’t want to miss what could have been a very special day for Irish rugby (ah, so young and naive).
We went to the Hotel de Ville big square where there was a big screen to watch the game, with crates of cans in tow. Turns out we were delighted not to have spent the money on tickets. We used our empties to form a wall of cans around us to protect us from the growing ever encroaching hoards of French fans.
We also met Co. Kildare’s most infamous resident Rory Connolly who quickly fell asleep and slept for the whole match in a crucifix position. And the result left Killian in well lets just say, an emotional state. We met some Iranian and Senegalese immigrants on our way to the Irish pub, they were great craic and told us at every opportunity their political views (they don’t seem to be too fond of Nicolas Sarkozy).
Johnny spent his whole night showing people his best Brian O’Driscoll and Gordon D’Arcy impressions that went something like “Look at me, I’m Brian O’Driscoll” or “Look at me I’m Gordan Darcy”.
Much of our night was spent begging for beds or floor space to sleep, however we were resigned to sleeping in the train station. We awoke from our 6-way spoon to find 6 security guards and dogs standing over us. We figured it was time to try and get an early train, where we slept the whole way home on the floor and stairs only to wake this time to find French people laughing and taking photos of us.
Back to Lyon for our flight home
Our last night out in France proved a little to much for Johnny and Darren who after a bottle of vino and a few beers fell asleep at the bar leaving them with the mother of all hangovers for our flight home. Our World Cup Trip was amazing and made even better with all the stuff Paddy Power gave us.
Before we sign off we would like to make special mention to Toto Schilacci the sheep, he was there for us when we were feeling low, and took everything in his stride. He lived far beyond his life expectancy of the first night. He has passed on now to the Great TGV in the sky where no doubt he will be grazing down upon us. May he rest in peace.
Tonga’s Green Dream
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