If you haven’t read “a bit of a problem” the following will make no sense to you. Just go back a blog post.
What to do…what to do…I had about 4 hours before my appointment at the passport office. My passport counter man suggested, in that I was going to Ireland, I could go across the street to the Harp for a few pints of Guinness just for practice. I didn’t.
I sat in the lobby and had several conversations with people that could speak English and that didn’t look like my cab driver Mohamed. One guy was getting married in Singapore the next day. His bride to be was on her way and he said that she left telling him he let his passport expire just so that he could bail on this marriage. Talk about pressure. I think she was right.
Another young man was going to Harvard for his master’s in World War I & II. I asked why and he said he was born in Normandy and has taken a keen interest in the “Landing” and the two wars. I asked what he was going to do with a Master’s in that field and he said “no idea”. Don’t ya just love being young and carefree.
I could feel the taste of a few coming on, so off to the Fours.
My old CelticVision office was on Canal Street next to the Fours (voted best sports bar in America by Sports Illustrated Magazine). As a matter of fact our office was owned by the Fours and we had a private entrance to the bar on the third floor. I took advantage of that door on many occasions.
One of my responsibilities at CelticVision was paying the “bills” and as I opened the door on this day the owner was standing tall greeting all that entered. “Hello Peter”, I said,” remember me?” He looked long and hard and said “ya, and I think you owe me 3 month’s rent”.
All was forgiven and we revisited old times.
I talked with Ray Bourque (Bruins) and a steel worker that walked the beams. The steel worker was there before me and during my time at the bar he must have had 5 or 6 beers and left saying he was walking the 14th floor beams so he was OK…and added…it only hurts when you hit the ground.
Back to the passport office, my harmonica in hand, for my 3:30 appointment. Went well and picked up my new passport at 4:30. Made it to Logan in a cab driven by someone named David (must have changed his name from Mohamed).
Arrived in Dublin at 5:15am and then to American Customs.
“Brand new pass post never been stamped” I said. “Congratulations, how long are you here for?” “Three months” “Oh and when would you be going back?” “The 31st of March” I said. “Do you have an Irish visa?” “No, I live here part time.” “Do you have an Irish passport?” “No, but I have stayed in Ireland for extended periods of time before.” “Mr. Carney you are only allowed to stay in Ireland for less than 3 months and after checking your itinerary you will be placed on the next plane back to Boston.”
This guy must have spent time in the US Marine Corps. All he kept saying was “that is the law of the land and rules are rules”.
The art of the long pause…I didn’t say anything (it seemed like 10 minutes) and neither did he. Finally he just stamped my passport saying that I must change my return date and if not, I will be heavily fined.
I said “yes sir, I will”
Fuck him…or maybe they fucked me…we shall see on the 31st of March.