Oh Boyle!

We met my Uncle Tommy and his wife Carol on Friday night. We went to a pub, and it was exactly how I'd imagine it: regular customers, drunk men, barflies making playful comments with the bartender, and everyone knew Tommy. He was the Boyle Norm. Everybody knew his name.

One man, Mickey, came to the table and pronounced his love to Kristie. Normally, I'd be threatened, but this geezer had only two or three teeth, perhaps needed to chew the suds of his Guinness. Another man came up and pretended that I was Kristie's dad. He was a little man wrapped in the biggest, puffiest coat you could imagine. He looked like a hot dog wrapped in a loaf of Wonder Bread. If this weren't bad enough, he had the longest nose hair I have ever seen. It wasn't the usual curly ones that poke out, nor was it in a gang that sprouts. Rather, this was an inch-long string, like a repeller would drop down before exploring an underground cave. I was transfixed watching it sway with his breaths, like a metronome clicking to and fro counting time.

We went to my mom's house, school, and church, as well as visiting the graves of my grandparents. It was an excellent trip, perhaps one of the best.