Scene: Outside a coffee shop by the Luas station. In one hand I am holding a white cup with green tea so that it does not blow away, and in the other, I am writing in this journal. A young boy is playing with his blue toy car on the cement and he has just dumped his red juice all over the car. I hope the upholstery isn't expensive. The boy's father sits in front of me, smoking a cigarette and playing with his cell phone. He turns around.
"You American?" I had not spoken a word to him. Americans must have a 'look' about them.
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"You look it." The cigarette dangles from his mouth. "You watch the Big Bang Theory? You do look a different ethnicity though...What are you?'
I reply back to his cannon of questions and try not to give too much info away.
"Are you writing an essay? Are you writing about me right now? You can if you want...I don't mind." I chuckle to myself. As if he had a choice! I wasn't even writing a blog in that moment, but it turned into one. This one is for you, mister tattoo-necked-cigarette smoking-friendly stranger. You may have yelled at your three year old son, called him stupid, and allowed him to run around care free, but I give you some kudos for striking up a curious conversation with a stranger. Maybe you are nosy or a stalker at heart, I'll never know. If you are a stalker, then I'm sure somehow you will find this blog on the internet through a simple search of "American, blogger, lady with L.L Bean bag (is that how you figured I was American?), CELTA student." That's how the world works these days. I bet I could find you too - "Irish, Romanian wife, son, smoker, Big Bang Theory lover."
You stopped talking to me as soon as your Romanian wife walked over. "Hey hunny, this girl is American!" you said as if I were a celebrity or special edition ice cream flavor. "She's going to teach Irish to foreigners." I didn't correct this error. I let it slide.
"Hi," I meekly wave. She doesn't acknowledge me.
"She said hello to you." Clearly not caring about the American, the wife goes inside the coffee shop and after she comes out empty handed, the family walks inside the building. That's when I said to myself, "Feck it," and wrote it all down.
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