While sitting in the local coffeehouse this evening drinking a Guinness, I noticed a ravishing brunette at the table next to me.  She was talking to a curly haired blonde across from her about our fair city, when I overheard her say that she was going to Co. Kerry, Ireland for the holidays with the family.

Immediately, I lit up like I always do on the rare occasion that I meet someone from Ireland or the UK. 

“Pardon me, might I ask you a question?”  I asked with a uniquely enthusiastic tone to my voice.

“Ah, go fer it, as long as it’s not to marry me, for I’m already taken, ye see”, she laughingly replied whilst showing off her ring.

“Are you from Ireland?"  I asked, as I moved to the chair closest to them being careful not to spill my Guinness.

“I’m a Charleston girl, but my parents moved over from Ireland in the 50’s.”

“Really?”

“Yep, are you Irish yourself?”  She enquired, while her friend went to the bar to order another drink.

“Ah no, my ancestors are from County Mayo and County Down”, I answered whilst sipping me beer.

“Well you could of fooled me”, she said with amazement.

“Ah well, I have friends in Ireland and I’ve been a few times”, I muttered whilst smiling.

“Your accent is something else boy.  It’s like a cross of a Southern accent and a…ehm…Downpatrick accent”, she enounced, while waiting on her fresh glass of Harp to settle.

“Well, at least it is not a D4 accent”, I laughingly muttered.

Her friend sat curiously silent, while we laughed and went on about D4.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

“Nope, I want to know more about you”, she replied, whilst crossing her arms.

“Okay, I’m a photographer and a wee bit of a poet”, I replied whilst blushing.

“Are you now?”

“Indeed.”

“Well then, I see you’re not wearing a ring, but I’m reckonin’ that ye got a girlfriend, don’t ya?”

“Nope, I haven’t quite gotten over the last one.”

“Well what’s wrong with ya…are ya not good under the covers?”  She whispered whilst giggling.

“I can assure you that isn’t the problem”, I muttered whilst spilling my stout.

“Can you now?”

(I laughed.)  I love banter!

Perfect, I’ve got the perfect gurl for ya”, she said whilst turning to her friend whose cheeks and ears were glowing red.

“I’ve got to get some air”, her friend said, as she got up and walked away.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just bashful.”

“Back to my first question then, what do you do for a living?”

“I teach youngsters how to play the fiddle, along with playing it, of course”, she kindly answered with enthusiastic charm.

“Brilliant, I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the fiddle.  I can play the harmonica and the dulcimer”, I hollered, as my eyes ignited with delight.

“Dulcimer, really?”

“Yep, my grandmother taught me when I was a lad, although I’ve not played in years.”

“Ah the Dulcimer is a delightful instrument born in Appalachia…Tis sad that so few people know how to play it these days”, she said, as we raised our almost empty glasses to it.

“So, where is your family from in Ireland?”

“Yer not marrying me, you’re marryin’ ‘er”, she drunkenly hollered motioning for her friend and winking at me.

Her friend stomped off to the restroom and we chatted for another hour about Ireland, family, and what not.  Her friend got so drunk that she finally didn’t care what was said.  I went on about my family, plans, and future trips.  She told me to come to Charleston, for I would have better chances there.  I frequent that coffee shop quite a bit, but it was the first time that the craic was flowing as well as the beer.

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