Getting thrown out of a bar is not something anyone should be particularly proud of. It is looked down upon and makes one feel ashamed of themselves. However, the night I was kicked out of a pub in Dublin was probably one of the best nights of my life and I wouldn’t change one detail of it.
I recently returned from a two and a half week study abroad experience in Ireland. There were 15 of us, one boy, and awkwardly hilarious professor. I spent about four nights in Limerick and the rest of my trip in Dublin. As I said, there were 15 students, but I became extremely close with seven other girls. On a random Monday evening, after a day jam-packed with sight seeing and educational museums, my seven girlfriends and I decided to hit the town and check out the Temple Bar Area. This is a street full of Irish pubs and fun nightlife activities. We began our night at Fitzsimmons after seeing an advertisement for €5 cocktails and a rooftop bar. We spent about an hour there and made some unusual friends, including one guy who showed us his tattoo of a lemon on his man thigh. That was the cue for us to hit our next stop. We decided to check out The Temple Bar Pub. The place was mobbed, so some of the girls in our group said they wanted to go to The Mezz, a rock-and-roll themed dive bar that we have been going to for a few nights. However, we couldn't leave without taking a few pics in front of the sign first. There were three men sitting in the window where we wanted to take our picture, so my outgoing and weird self had to wave and make funny faces at them. My friend Liz and I chose to stay at The Temple Bar and planned to meet our friends at The Mezz later. Looking back now, I am so thankful for making the decision to stay.
While purchasing a few Guinni (our way of saying the plural of Guinness), one of the men from the window approached us and offered to pay for our beers. His name was Johann. Unfortunately for Johann, we liked to double fist because the pubs close earlier in Ireland than in America, so he got stuck paying for five beers, including his own, instead of three. We’re sorry Johann! We talked with him for a while and learned he was originally from Denmark…or Sweden (I don’t have an exceptional memory), but was in Dublin for a night because he was on tour with a band from the UK. The band, The 1975! I was starstruck and he wasn’t even a performer. He was a drum technician for the band and had the privilege to travel all over the world with them. This provoked Liz and I to stay at this pub instead of meeting with our friends, who actually had already left to catch the bus back to our apartments. Although our night already seemed eventful, it was only the beginning.
Liz and I wanted to be closer to the live band, so we bid Johann farewell and made our way into the other room. In this room, there was an overwhelming amount of people, a band performing indie and alternative covers, and friends I would soon make. In the distance, we saw a woman standing on a barstool, dancing and having the time of her life. Liz pointed at the woman and said, “I want to be where she is by the end of the night.” We made our way to the front of the room, right in front of the band. Next to us, was a family from Cincinnati, Ohio. The son of the family began clapping to the music in an unusual pattern, and no one started clapping with him, so a few minutes later, I continued the clapping pattern and had the whole pub participating, which was a very accomplished feeling. We spent a few minutes talking to them and bonding about our American heritage.
The band then went on their break. To our right was the table that the dancing woman was at. We began talking to them and noticed they had an unusual accent. Liz asked if they were from England, but one of the two men at the table explained to us that they were originally from South Africa and now live in Dubai. Once the band began their second set, Leatitia, the dancing woman, took her place on her stool and continued her routine. Jarred, one of the men at the table, told us to get on the nearby stools and dance with Leatitia, who we later found out was his wife. While dancing on these stools, we finally caught a glimpse of the people around the pub. There were friends laughing, relationships forming, and one man pretending a pack of tissues was his cell phone. Yes, you read that correctly. He pretended he was taking videos and snapchats on his cell phone, but in actuality, it was a tissue packet. We remained on those barstools for hours, having the time of our lives. We made eye contact, pointed at, and ended up in so many snap stories that night while we kept clapping in the strange pattern the Cincinnati boy came up with. The band only had a few more songs left in their set list, and that’s when the trouble began.
After hours of dancing where we shouldn’t be, security came finally noticed us. The bouncer banged on the window right behind us and made motions that we needed to get down, while a waitress came over and told us the same. We abided by their rules and joined the rest of the group on the floor. After a few more tunes, the band announced that they would be playing their last song. Jarred said, “Hey guys, get back up on the stools!” After politely declining because the bouncer yelled at us, Jarred looked us in the eyes and said, “Think of it this way, it’s the last song.” At this moment, I felt really emotional and knew that my place was back on those stools. I looked at Liz who said, “What are they gonna do, kick us out?” A few minutes later, that same bouncer came to our table and yelled that we needed to leave immediately. He even moved the table that was in front of us to make room for us to exit. On our way out, we heard cheers from the crowd and received high five. We felt famous at that moment because we knew we made memories for not only us, but for the other people at the bar that can say to their friends, “Hey, remember those girls in Dublin on the stools that got kicked out of the pub?” Even though the bouncer was stern, he laughed with us and even took pictures with us, smiling as if ever nothing happened.
We were not allowed back into The Temple Bar that night, but ended up returning two nights after to show our friends where our epic adventure was held. This truly was one of the best nights of my life, not only for the fun story I get to tell, but because it was the first night I felt as if I really experienced Dublin. I didn't care what anyone thought about me and I was my whole self that night. I had more fun than I can ever say I had and I made friends from all around the world. This pub will always have a special place in my heart even from visiting it the nights after this one. Liz and I even began to call it home and needed to buy t-shirts. As I said, getting kicked out of a pub isn't something people should be proud of, but it is a memory I will forever cherish and never forget.
