Fucking with rude Dubliners

So I actually wrote this about two weeks ago, on the night it happened, but waited until now to post it. Enjoy:

It is 3:20 in the morning, and I have to post this blog before I forget it. I was out in Dublin tonight, wasted as usual, and wound up at a club in the (touristy) Temple Bar district with my buddy Todd from the hostel I'm staying at.

"Five euro cover," the woman at the door said. Todd decided that was too much and headed home. I figured on rolling the dice and taking a look around the club. I pay the money, get the fucking stamp on my hand and go in. Downstairs I head straight for the bar and order a pint of Carlsberg. There are two blondes next to me, one cute and one not. I make eye contact with the cute one, give her the smile-and-nod, and get a smile in return, which I figure is a good sign. The bartender brings me my pint, I pay for it, and when I turn back the cute one is gone but the ugly one is still there. I figure I'll make some friends, build up some credit, so I say "Are you from Dublin originally?" and give her my friendliest smile.

I get the straight-up nasty look, the turned back, and not even a word of acknowledgement.

Now I've gotten the noncomittal "yeah," the "no thanks," and the polite-smile-but-cold shoulder, but I've never gotten the total rudeness this bitch gave me. It offended me. It's the first time in Dublin anyone was genuinely an asshole to me. I took it personally. A quick lap around the club while chugging my pint proved that there were a few cute girls, but nothing special, and I realized that Todd had the right idea when he left earlier. I hate clubs anyway, and I should never have wasted my time or money. As I'm leaving, I see the blonde bitch with her cute friend by the door. Drunk and feeling belligerent, I tap her (the bitchy one) on the shoulder as I point to the cuter one.

"By the way," I say as loudly as I can, "your friend is hotter. Cheers."

The look on her face and the way her eyes widened when I said that made me think I was about to get assaulted. I walked out of the club, expecting to be hit in the back of the head, and breathed a sign of relief when I saw the bouncer out front. At least if she attacked me, the bouncer could vouch that I hadn't "provoked" it. The last thing I need is an international arrest record.

Anyway, I'm fucked up and proofreading this is taking too much effort. I'll update soon with more (and better) news. Till then, cheers.
-Brendan

PS: While I was typing this, Todd showed up at the hostel and told me he got a delicious 5-euro cheeseburger while I was having adventures with Dublin's cuntish underlife. If there was any sign I needed that I have bad judgment, that was it.