Headed to Baltimore

Thursday August 23, 2007 With the air conditioner cranked up to full speed, I awoke in New York with the outside temperature already in the 70s and the time was only 3am in the morning. Along with the humid, stagnant air, the temperatures were expected to become unbearable, with my environment having altered quite a bit since leaving Ireland. That and the jet lag would prove to be a considerable discomfort, having awoken in the early morning both bright eyed and bushy tailed. It was all I could do stay awake last night until 10pm, with my body still functioning in Irish time.

I remained in bed until at least 5am, thinking it a proper hour to arise. Since breakfast was to begin at 6:30am, it would give me plenty of time to get myself together and work on my entry some more. After about 8pm last night, my brain began to shut down, having only pounded out a simple draft.

Deciding to stretch out my stay after breakfast to make sure I would miss the rush hour traffic, I processed some photographs and wrote some email while relaxing with a nice cup of coffee. Now that I was back in the US with very the fast interstate highways, the 200 mile drive would take a handful of hours so there was no need to rush.

At 11am I cleared out of the hotel and hit the road. In New York the rush hour can last all day it seemed, so the first part of my trip in getting out of Queens and into Staten Island went quite slow. It took me an hour and a half to cover the ten miles to the Verrazano Bridge, which would take me across New York harbor into Staten Island. Despite the grind, it was much more pleasant to creep down the road with an automatic transmission, as opposed to a grueling crawl in Ireland with a manual shift.

Slowly chugging along, I had an odd feeling and could not figure out if it was my missing Ireland or the jet lag. Reflecting back on the places I had been in Ireland, it was my thinking it was sadness and not a body clock issue. The Irish Nights show planted Ireland firmly into my being and fostered my affinity for the country and the people. Perhaps when I get back to Washington and get around its likened environment of Ireland, it would all be better. At least I did not have to smell livestock back home.

As I was leaving Brooklyn, I saw the signature farewell sign that I had seen on my way to JFK back in May. This time I was ready for it, and officially documented the mob’s famous words of wisdom, “Fuhgeddaboudit.” It would not be a problem for me to comply with its directive when it came to the traffic that day.

As I was flying down Interstate 95 at 75 mph and still not keeping up with the flow of traffic, I noted the temperature on the car’s external thermometer as being 80 degrees. The water vapor hung in the air reducing visibility, which meant it was quite humid as well. Having grown up mostly on the east coast, the humidity was something to which I never could tolerate. Fortunately, unlike the cars in Ireland, this one had an air conditioner and I had it on full blast.

Arriving in Baltimore at my mother’s house at about 4pm, I found her inside with the windows wide open for ventilation. It seemed cooler for her as she was airing out the house, having had the dwelling sealed up during the 90-100 degree weather they had in the last two months. Having been living in Ireland for the summer with the temperature barely getting passed the mid sixties, what she thought was cool was a heat wave for me.

As I settled for the evening, I pondered the tasks for the next couple of days until my flight out on Monday. It seemed that my need for posting entries would be suspended until getting back home, giving me time to compose my final thoughts in closing the journal for my Ireland trip. Barring any difficulties with my nemesis and their ability to find me with their pot of gold, my next entry should be my last, bringing my adventure in Ireland to an end.