As is often with my adventures, all did not go as planned. I had planned, and conveyed to my rendezvous partner, that I would take the 8:00 a.m. train from Belfast Central to arrive in Dublin Connoly by 10 a.m. This, of course, required me to first catch the train to Central from Botanic Station - which is the closest station to the apartment. it would require me to catch the train at Botanic by 7:30 for the short trip to Central. As I found it to be on Friday morning, the streets were practically void of people at 7:15 in the morning. On my wee (small) walk to the platform, I spied a £5 note. Seeing two men ahead of me, I thought it best to pick up and inquire whether either individual had dropped any money. As I approached, I asked if either of them had dropped any money. After being extremely surprised at such an inquiry by a complete stranger - looking at me sideways, then up and down - they both replied to the negative. Seeing their surprised response, I commenced explaining that I had found a note on the platform and had wanted to return it to the proper owner. That explanation seemed to warm them up slightly. At that point, from around the corner, a small voice uttered, "was it a £10?" I said no and heard a groan in response. The other two fellows, heartily laughed and said, " well, Kev, it was worth a try" -- following up with a, "what a lucky bastard he'd have been if it were!" Lucky for me, it was a gift from God, as I would need exactly that much money for taxi fare - but I get ahead of myself. So, I tucked the note back in my pocket and boarded the train.
Barely two minutes later, the train slowed down and stopped. Having never taken this route, I didn't know we had actually arrived at Belfast Central. The ticket man stood at the entrance, blocking the way, as he looked both left and right. Not twenty seconds later, as the train began to move again, out of the window, I spied the sign for Belfast Central. Needless to say, I had to ride to the next station. Unfortunately, there wasn't another train back to Central from there for another 45 minutes, so I had to get a Value Cab taxi. By the time I got to Central, I had missed my train to Dublin by 2 minutes. The Translink Supervisor, after hearing my sob story, and undoubtedly being moved by the pitiful look on my face, graciously offered to let me use his office phone to call my contact that I'd be arriving at 12:45 -- not 10:00.
I left my message via audix assuming she would get it and resolved to settle in for another 2 1/2 hours. Mind you, the station is not very big, approximately the size of QuikTrip, with a small area to purchase pastries and drinks, a few tables and chairs thrown about haphazardlessly around the seating area, and the BBC News blaring on a television hanging from the ceiling. So, I nursed a plain scone and a bottle of coke for about an hour while watching groups of people rowing their boats in the nearby river. At about an hour before the train would be leaving, it dawned on me that I was mere blocks from the St. Georges Market. However tempting the thought, I stayed put, knowing without a doubt, that if I left the station - something else would befall me and I would miss the 10:45 train. So, I surrendered myself to catching up on all the news and gossip from the BBC morning edition. The gossip portion was interesting in that there was a 'journalist/columnist' who joined the two morning hosts. Spread out before all three individuals was an assortment of tabloids and newspapers. Each 'host' took turns holding up a publication, reading the front cover, and making a short comment regarding the story. I also found out that President Obama was in India - something I hadn't been aware of.
The train ride lasted two hours. Amidst a myriad of travelers, almost all of whom hauled out some sort of alcoholic beverage from wine to beer, I sat there sipping a diet coke, reading an occassional page in my book, watching the countryside rush by, blithely assuming that my contact had received the message that I was arriving in Dublin at 12:45, not 10:00.
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