Writing in public places

A drink, a think and a story to tell

The noise of a crowd can soothe the thoughts in ways that quiet can't. Maybe it’s something from writers of a distant past in that a writer is never too far from a drink and a writing instrument.

And of course no matter where I go someone usually has a story to tell, even if they don’t know it completely.

Glasshouse Hotel, Swan Point, Rathedmond,

Sligo, F91 NCA4, Ireland

On a trip to Ireland, I sat in the hotel bar people watching. While I would typically have a whiskey, I decided that a lager was more appropriate for where I was. As I started to collect my thoughts the driver for our tour bus approached. Over the course of the days spent on the bus with 10 other people, he was a friendly enough man that made sure to take his cigarette breaks just before we ventured on to the next town. Anyone who sat on the bus behind him would catch the whiff of smoke just we pulled off.

He sat down, face contorted with a question. seemed frustrated and asked “You’re a journalist, right?” All too familiar with the anticipatory question of someone ready to tell this journalist about an injustice, in hopes that someone would be willing to spread the news with righteous indignation. I’ve done it myself even with the knowledge that it’s not going to go that way.

The world needed to know his dismay.According to our driver friend, in Ireland, drivers have to pay for this CPR training certification out of pocket for a certification they were required to have.

As we traveled thought the Ireland countryside, I’d noticed that there were defibrillators on walls out doors and thought people must have heart attacks a lot around here.

I was very confused about what he was telling me.

This sounded very much like an American practice and I thought he was stating that he believed drivers should have been paid more because they received this certificate.

Nope. He explained that to drive for some companies as drivers who needed to be certified with defibrillation and CPR trained had to pay for this out of pocket. He believed the companies should pay for the training.

I was confused by the level of his frustration. This was a moment of cultural distortion that didn’t become clear until I explained to him “Drivers in the US aren't required to be CPR trained.” He contorted his face.

“So what do they do when someone is hurt?” They call emergency services and have to wait. The bus doesn't move and everyone who is on the bus has to wait.

By this point he was disgusted. “So nobody does anything to help?” I felt like I was making his moral code prickle and all of the respect for what he believed about the US was going to deflate as soon as I replied. “No. They don't.”

Many people leave their homes to create what they perceive will be a better life in the US and some come away disgusted with the culture of self-service and lack of ethics. In his one question, he summed up what has become so much the norm that I had forgotten that not everyone thinks in this way.

Our driver’s appall with this new knowledge that US Americans, aren’t trained in their jobs to support, help or save their fellow man. We are trained to wait for someone else to come along and do something for us. If we don’t wait, we are penalized, fined, arrested and otherwise discouraged.

In one sentence and in my response, I understood his dismay immediately. I should have been offended alongside with him.

Cambria Hotel, Louisville Kentucky

An entire bottle of Pinot Blanc and an ice cream covered bread pudding to myself. I was attending Nomadness Summit but the work for a writer sometimes doesn’t stop. The server at the bar was a friendly man who wore a durag and tolerated his co-workers just enough to keep him employed. I felt his resolve as I watched the small interactions.

I didn't talk to him much but i saw him on a cigarette break after I returned from one of my walks. Leaned against the wall, he reminded me of someone in the movies trying to “find a way to get out of this town”. At any moment, I wanted him to break out into a choreographed dance routine that expounded his truest desire. But that is reserved for the movies.

Not everyone has a two step and a song in their heart.