Following on from Cara’s post about the Clarence, here’s the story of why Dublin is one of my favorite cities on the planet.
In 2001, my partner and I went to Dublin for a few days. We stayed at the Clarence, drank in the Octagon, and ate an enormous meal one night in the restaurant (where the sommelier learned we were from America and wanted to extol the virtues of a wine called Marilyn Merlot. I am not making this up.) We were celebrating our anniversary, and after a dinner with perhaps more wine than was strictly necessary, we went down the street to the Kitchen, U2′s nightclub.
We were both 40 at the time. Temple Bar was full of Beautiful Young People. The Kitchen had the usual red velvet rope guarded by large, hiply-dressed men. And I remember turning to my sweetie and saying, Oh, yeesh, what if they don’t let us in? I have been given the arched-eyebrow treatment by some of the gatekeepers of clubs in New York (who had to let me in because I was On The List, and it just about killed them because I totally skewed their demographic). I really didn’t want this to happen at the Kitchen.
So we approached the rope, and one Large Well-Dressed Man smiled and said, Ladies, are you coming in? And held the rope aside for us.
I love that man.
We went in and explored, and ended up at the far end of the club (through several rooms, across at least one dance floor). There was a bar in the back, and we found a table, and we had some Guinness, and talked… and before we knew it, it was about 3 AM and the place was heaving with people. They were literally standing packed like sardines around our table and others.
And my partner walks with a cane.
So, you can picture it — 40-year-old women, one using a cane, who have had a fair amount to drink and now have to make their way through about a million Young Dancing Drinking People without being trampled in the rush to claim our table.
And here’s what happened: We stood up. A man of about 21 or so said, Ladies, are you going out? And when we said yes, he proceeded to walk in front of us, politely tapping people on the shoulder and saying, Make way, please, make way. And everyone smiled and made way. We never even got jostled, never mind trampled. He walked us all the way to the entrance, and I was so amazed and grateful for the grace of the moment that I kissed him on the cheek and told him I’d never forget him. And I never have.
I’m glad I got to go to the Kitchen. But more than that, I’m glad I found out that Dublin is a city of such kind and lovely people.
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What a lovely story! Thank you for sharing it with us!
That is just a great story. I’m glad you found such nice people!
Glad you enjoyed it. We had so many good moments with strangers in Dublin, people being warm and kind and generous in small ways… but this is my official favorite Dublin story.
And the Clarence rocked as a hotel (sorry about the bad pun, just can’t resist!)
I’ve visited many of the “great” cities of the world (London, NYC, San Fran, Glasgow to name a few), but Dublin is home to the nicest people on the planet. I really cannot wait to go back some day.
I’ve just found your blog, so let me say “hi.” And then let me say that you are so right about the people of Dublin. From the young cab driver who rescued us when we were lost (and whose favorite word was “fookin’”) to the adorable lady at the optician’s who fixed my husband’s glasses when we walked in off the street, so afraid our vacation was ruined because he can’t SEE without his glasses – they were all friendly and talkative and funny. I prefer the country and small towns, but Dublin will always be special.
One of the things I liked best about Dublin is that it was a true city but felt “small” in terms of everyone treating each other as individuals, not as part of a faceless crowd. Seattle, where I live, feels like that too.
Another reason Dublin is special — Butler’s Irish Chocolates. Super yum.
I would most definitely agree with you on that one. When I went to Dublin two years ago, I was a newly born U2 fan, and I kept expected Bono or the Edge to appear from anywhere. Sadly to say, I was dissappointed. Bono was in New York at the time, and I don’t know where the hell the edge was. Anyway,I was driving by the Clarence in a taxi, and I mentioned to the driver how much I loved U2. Him being a U2 fan as well, pulled over and asked the guy at the front door if “Bono was around for this young lady here.” The doorman gave us a quizzical look, and said,” Well, if he was, I couldn’t really tell you now, could I?” This is my favorite Dublin memory.
Great story, Kelley. And that reminds me of my favorite Dubliners. (Well, aside from the four lads in our favorite band.)
When I flew there in 2005, I ended up being 18 hours late arriving. On the last leg of my VERY long journey, toward the end of my eight- or nine-hour wait at Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris, I met a lovely couple who were also trying to get to Dublin. We shared stories about our delays, and they asked me about my trip. At some point it occurred to us that I probably wouldn’t be arriving in time to check into my guesthouse (which, unlike hotels, aren’t staffed 24 hours a day). I also didn’t have my cell phone with me to call and make arrangements. But my airport companions did, and they called the guesthouse and arranged for someone to meet me there.
And if that wasn’t nice enough, they also offered to drive me to the guesthouse because they didn’t want me, a single woman, to have to mess with a cab at that late hour. Of course that offer was made when we were expecting to land around 11 p.m. Dublin time. But we landed about midnight, and THEN … my bags were missing. As I waited in line to find out what happened to my luggage, I told them to please go on and I would get a cab. But the husband, standing there with his 5-year-old daughter zonked out on his shoulder, insisted. So these perfect strangers, with exhausted daughter in tow, waited for me to get my luggage situation straightened out and then drove me to an unfamiliar neighborhood in their city.
I finally got in my room about 2 a.m.; I have no idea what time they finally made it home. But I’ve never forgotten how kind and generous they were; I don’t even think they accepted my offer of gas money.
I love that place; can’t wait to go back!
These are all such great stories to hear… I love that in a world where so much can go wrong in daily life and on the global stage, that we can still connect through small kindnesses. Seems like Dublin has a lot of that.
Watch, now the next time I go back someone will drop a brick on me or something (grin). I imagine Dublin’s no more perfect than Seattle, but it means a lot to go far from home and find that people can be kind.