…….

The pound is the most intimidating currency anywhere, and I was well sick of having to pay $400 every time I wanted a cup of coffee or beer. The Euro suddenly seemed so rational. We watched the River Foyle disappear behind thick clumps of flora as the charter-style bus careened down A40 toward the unmanned border and wondered why there were so many kids on the bus.

Did they commute from Donegal Town? Did they live in one country and go to school in another? It was late Friday afternoon - were they just going home for the weekend from boarding school in Derry?

As the lights went out above rural County Donegal, my girlfriend and I drifted through narrow roads in tiny little towns, surrounded by laughing schoolgirls singing along as Blink 182’s “I Want to Fuck a Dog in the Ass” played on their cell phones.

I want to fuck a dog in the ass.

Dark birds swooped across the sky in between old buildings and I spotted a thatched-roof bar.

We want to fuck a dog in the ass.

When we hit Raphoe some of the kids got off. Some more got on. I fell asleep for ten minutes when it got completely dark out. In two hours I’d be talking with the owner of a hostel who didn’t remember me over a peat fire out on N56. We’d meet Germans and spend the night drinking in a nameless pub above the River Eske.

I want to fuck a dog, that’s right kids.

How different would my life have been if my bus ride home from school occasionally had an Irishman sitting in the back?