Road Trip 7
Kerry and Luka and Dave and Carter
Previously on ER
A grateful (and rich) patient invited some of the ER doctors on
an all-expenses paid trip to Ireland to attend a conference in
Galway. Arriving in Dublin they discovered that they had to drive
themselves to Galway. Staying overnight in Birr, Kerry dreamed of
Luka, and Dave had some fun with a camera, and two sleeping
roommates. Next morning, with Dave driving, they set off for
Galway.
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For a change, the journey was going smoothly. The sun was
shining, the windows were rolled down and all the passengers were
enjoying the scenic Irish countryside (shameless plug alert
<g>). That is until they passed too close to a farm.
Luka was driving when he caught a hint of a scent that had once
been as familiar to him as that of his own brand of hair mousse.
Hmm, he breathed in the heady aroma of a traditional farmyard.
Ah, it reminded him so much of home. He rolled down the window to
savor the moment.
"Oh god, what's that disgusting smell?" said Carter,
holding his nose.
"It's not me," said Dave hurriedly, knowing that he was
usually the first person to be blamed.
"It's coming from outside the car," said Kerry hastily
rolling up her window. Both she and Carter were looking rather
pale as they sniffed the air.
Luka looked in surprise at them. "What are you talking
about?" He took another deep breath. "Ahhh, the smell
of the slurry being spread on the ground. There is nothing like
it."
"Thank god," muttered Kerry under her breath. "Would
you mind rolling up the window, please?"
Luka did so ungraciously, muttering under his breath about 'city
folk who wouldn't know a good healthy smell if it bit them on the
ass'.
As things turned out, it was fortunate that they had rolled up
the windows. Okay, the stuffy atmosphere <was> making Dave
a little queasy, but a few miles further along the road they got
stuck behind a herd of cows. Several of which managed to decorate
the car with their bodily functions.
Kerry stared aghast as yet another cow urinated on the car.
"We are getting this car washed at the very next garage,"
she swore.
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"What's the next town John?" asked Kerry.
Carter was struggling with the map trying to find the route that
they had been given. The directions had seemed a lot clearer an
hour ago, in the comfort of the hotel. Matters weren't helped by
the fact that he had accidentally bought an Irish language road
map. Hesitantly he called out a name from a map.
"We've already passed that one," said Luka.
"When?" asked Kerry, surprised. "I wanted you to
stop and get the car cleaned."
"About five minutes ago. You probably blinked and missed it.
There was a post office and a few houses. No garage so we
wouldn't have been able to clean the car anyway."
"Well, we have to stop somewhere. We can't arrive in Galway
looking like..."
"Like we've been shat on by a herd of cows?" said Dave
helpfully.
"Thank you Dave," said Kerry, icily.
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Half an hour later they had stopped in Loughrea. Kerry and Luka
sat on a low wall drinking coffee while Dave and Carter washed
the car at the small garage.
"Do you not think I should help them?" asked Luka,
sipping his coffee. He was amazed at how good it was. This was
real coffee all right. Thick and strong and tasting like the
mechanics had washed their oily rags in it before it was boiled
for several hours. If their had been room in the car, he would
have been tempted to buy the coffee machine and bring it back to
Chicago with him, but he would have to make do with drinking as
many cups as he could while the car was being washed.
"I'm sure John and Dave can manage fine by themselves,"
said Kerry. She sipped her coffee and grimaced. She had taken the
coffee with milk, and had put several portions of sugar into her
paper cup, but she could still taste the coffee. Discreetly she
looked around for a suitable place to dump the foul tasting
liquid.
"Hmmm," said Luka, watching as Dave 'accidentally' sent
a stream of water over Carter's shoes. Carter jumped in shock,
and retaliated in kind.
"This is going to be a long journey," he muttered to
himself.
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The next stage of the journey was spent in silence. Carter,
having by now used up all his own clean clothes, was now wearing
a t-shirt of Dave's and a pair of Luka's trousers. The t-shirt
was the one that Dave had been wearing to the pub, and although
Dave claimed to have rinsed it out the previous night, Carter was
sure he could still smell traces of Guinness on it. As for the
trousers, well, they were slightly snug in the waist, but several
inches too long in the legs. Kerry had been most unsympathetic,
saying that it was his own fault for getting in a water fight.
Dave was in much better shape (fashion wise, anyway) having
produced yet another t-shirt and jeans from his bulging backpack.
His suggestion of tying the wet clothes to the car and letting
them dry as they traveled had not been accepted.
Carter tried to lighten the mood as they drove closer to Galway
City. "This must be a really poor area of the country,"
he said, pointing to the stone walls that lined the road.
"See, they can't even afford to use cement in between the
stones."
Kerry ignored him. She was annoyed with herself for missing an
opportunity to see Luka in a wet t-shirt. She should have known
that Dave couldn't simply wash a car without messing around with
the water. Still, she <had> seen Dave and John in wet t-shirts,
not to mention a quick glimpse of Dave's chest when he had
stripped off his t-shirt.
Her musings were interrupted as the car suddenly pulled onto the
hard shoulder and stopped.
Dave flung open the passenger door and ran towards the stone wall.
Kerry watched as he leaned over it and started puking.
"I think he is getting better," said Carter. "We're
getting a lot further between puking stops."
Kerry glared at him. "I'll go see how he is," said
Carter hastily.
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Dave looked up as Carter's shadow moved into his line of vision.
"How're you doing?" asked Carter sympathetically. He
and Dave may have had their differences, but he still felt for
the guy. After all it couldn't be easy, being so prone to travel
sickness. Of course given the amount of alcohol Dave had consumed
the previous night, not to mention the sizeable breakfast he had
eaten, it wasn't really surprising that he was now hanging onto
the wall and looking rather green.
Dave opened his mouth, and promptly barfed in Carter's direction.
Luckily Carter had recognized the signs of impending vomiting and
had moved out of the way, otherwise he would have had to ask
Kerry if <she> had any clothes he could borrow.
Carter patted Dave on the back as he heaved. "That's it, get
it all out now, and we won't have to stop again before we get to
Galway."
Dave lifted his head and glared at Carter, then lowered it
hastily as another wave of nausea overtook him.
Back at the car Luka said, "Perhaps we can get a
prescription to help Dave on the journey back."
"Something like compazine?" asked Kerry. "I'm sure
it's available here."
"Actually, I was thinking of sleeping tablets."
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Fortunately for Kerry's sanity, they didn't have to stop again
for Dave. Whether this was due to him getting over his travel
sickness or whether he simply had nothing left to throw up, was
difficult to say.
As Luka drove around a corner, they were greeted by a sign saying
'Failte go Gallimh'
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to be continued.
Authors notes.
See, I told you I'd get them to Galway in part 7 <g>
'Failte go Gallimh' is Irish for 'Welcome to Galway'
Compazine is an anti-nausea drug (I think)
Slurry is effluent which is sprayed onto crops as a fertilizer (very
very pungent <g>)
Many parts of Connemara still have stone walls which were built
in the traditional way, not using any cement.
Part
VI