So it all starts when we're walking back to our hotel after an AMAZING day in Cork. We get off the 2 hour bus ride and begin walking, in the pouring rain, back to our hotel. Brooke and I have big souvenir bags full of things from Cork...mine apparently much heavier. We're about 10 minutes from our hotel when my bag rips into pieces and takes off in the current on the side of the road. I dive down to get the remains and all of the souvenirs as the first bus comes by and covers us in water (dirty at that). I continue to throw things in Brooke's bag and Janelle's mini bookbag as yet another car comes by and..you guessed it, covers us in more water. At this point Janelle and Brooke are basically peeing their pants laughing while I'm still gathering my things crouched down on the side of the road. It's not over yet...another car comes and finishes us off. Hilarious. So I stand up and see that luckily, the handle of the bag is still attached to my arm..thank goodness! We start walking back to the hotel looking like wet dogs that just got into a fight with three cars and we notice that Brooke's bag is ripping as well, and my little bag from Lisa's is ripping along with it. We finally make it back to the hotel where EVERYONE stares at us, thinking..where did these stupid Americans come from this time and what exactly did they just do? Story of our lives...maybe kissing the Blarney stone was a bad idea?
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