A Night in O'Ryan's Pub

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Wet, miserable, travel weary and hungry to boot I parked my truck or “lorry” as they call it in front of what looked to be a sort of tavern though the sign said that it was a pub. Like I did most nights that I was traveling I grabbed my laptop and ran inside, hoping above hope that the bar tender would know of a little motel were I could stay the night and maybe if fancy struck the week. 2

Inside was a wet, tired, hungry traveler’s heaven. It was a cozy turf fire warmed pub. With the smell of food in the air as well as the sound of laughter, it was just enough to lighten my otherwise dreary mood. Looking around for an empty table, it struck me how crowded it was, it was as if everyone in the tiny picturesque village had roused themselves to come and enjoy and add to the more than pleasant atmosphere. 3

Finding myself a quiet spot at the corner of the bar closest to the fire, as there were no tables unoccupied, I shook myself dry and booted up my computer to do as I had done every night since I had landed in the hospitable land of Ireland, I typed and recorded all that I had seen and felt. 4

“Irish hospitality is legendary and I had found that to be no less true as I ended my first day of travel.”  Thomas O’Ryan, whom the establishment was named after inquired as to my preference of drink. I had heard about a thing called a Guinness and so ordered one for though I had been in Ireland for more than a week I hadn’t yet worked up the courage to try one.5

As he was building my Guinness as they, say we got into what most would call an argument but was done in the friendliest of natures so I choose to call it a heated debate. He swore that the best beer is a Guinness while I swore that the best beer that I’ve tasted to date is a Corona. When he finished he set the Guinness in front of me and said “well once you have a sip o this you’ll be agreeing with me, that a well built Guinness is the best.”  I just nodded my head and lifted the glass to my lips, to this day I can’t accurately describe how it tastes so I’ve stopped trying. And so the debate ended with me in agreement with him as he predicted. 6

Down at the end of the bar there sat an old man, he was white haired and blue eyed and was a very nosy individual though not so much that he didn’t know when to stop if he was getting close to being rude. He said to me “Just what are you doing in Ireland?”  You have to understand that by this time I had been steadily ignoring all other distractions and except for the debate with the proprietor, O’Ryan, and had been looking down and typing the whole time. I was indeed annoyed by the interruption but when I looked up and saw those sky blue eyes with that twinkle in them that makes you think of mischievous deeds I was you could say, in love. I told him, I said “I am on a mission to record as many stories from the shores of Ireland as I can find.” He laughed a full laugh and said to me “Well me girl me name is Mitch Connelly and if it’s stories that you’re looking for, in this here pub it’s stories you’ll find.”  And with that, though don’t get me wrong, I did tender a quite ignored but worthy protest he turned around and to every patron in the bar announced my name, intentions and a request that any with stories come and share them, but ‘twas only after he did this that I got the impression that no one stopped Mitch Connelly from doing anything that he wanted to, and as all eyes swung to me, I assume to this day that they were looking for some sort of conformation so I just smiled, chuckled and nodded my head. After that it was smooth sailing. 7

That night I will never forget for that was the night when I met Jack O’Brien. He was a knight in shining armor out of his armor. Tall dark and handsome was he with eyes like that of Mitch but bluer if possible. He was as I recall one of the last people to give me their tale, it was about a witch and a knight that she healed when he was on the brink of death and while she was healing him they fell in love, he said that the knight left her to go do battle, the witch was also a seer so when her love died on the field of battle she saw it. Jack told me that he left her where she found him, in a circle of stones, not stone hedge but one that is still on the cliffs by the sea to this day, he told me he said, that if you walk out there today you can still hear her crying for her lover.  Any way long story short he gave me his tale on the condition that I give him dinner and it’s been a magic carpet ride ever since that night.  Today it’s two years later and tomorrow we are getting married and that one night in an Irish pub changed my life and me for the better. This story is just another happily ever after but, it’s a good one. And it all happened on just one night in O’Ryan’s pub.8