Adventures of me and my camera - part deux


It was a dark and stormy morning as I hauled my bastard bags underneath a bridge and waited alone. My tour bus was supposed to show up at 8:00am, but half an hour later it still hadn't arrived, leaving me cold, wet and wanting to burn my backpack and all the heavy items crushing my spine. Lulu and Juan, both from Spain, arrived to wait for the bus too, dragging their bags through the puddles, which ended my anxiety of having been waiting on the wrong street. While we were reassuring each other that this was the pickup spot, our bus tour guide Keith jumped out of nowhere and pointed to a big green bus parked in an alley across the street. We glanced over at huge smiling leprechauns and the words Paddywagon painted across it - that was the bus we would spend the next two days in, driving across this beautiful country to Galway. We left for a quick circle of Dublin, filling the bus with other soggy tourists, before heading out on the highway. Keith, who spoke with a thick accent and said 'yeah' after every five words, entertained us for hours with Irish jokes, true stories of fairies, leprechauns, and banshees, taught us new offensive words, and spewed good-humoured loathing at the few English on the bus. About an hour of traveling, yeah, had gone by, yeah, so we then stopped at a whiskey distillery, yeah, and did a tour, yeah, had some whiskey in the distillery bar, yeah, and a couple of pints of Guinness, yeah, and tried to get to know each other, yeah. We were all packed into the little bar and drinking before 10:00am - I knew I was going to like this tour; Ireland is good for you.

The next day we drove down to the Cliffs of Moher and spent an hour pushing and jostling with hundreds of other tourists, all trying to get a good photo. All the ladies stared in wonder at my massive camera as I swung it around - snapping award-winning images for National Geographic, I told them. "I also shoot for Playboy," I casually mentioned, as I whisked my long golden wind-blown hair from my face. A slender scantily-clad woman slowly ran her finger across my extended lens and gently turned it to extend it further, and asked if I was going to shoot more pictures soon. Her creamy exposed thighs were covered in goosebumps from the cool breeze blowing up from the cliffs. "Your lens is so big!" she cried out loudly, because the wind made it hard to hear. "Oh God!" she screamed as we both saw some tourists almost slip off the edge. "I'm going to shoot!" I excitingly exclaimed, because the sun had finally come out from behind the clouds. I quickly snapped one off, then another, and another, pumping the little button as fast as I could, until my photographic tool was spent, out of hard disc space, so I put it away and went to sleep back in the empty tour bus.

Photo credits: Ron Sumners.

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