I was lying on the grass in Eyre Square, downtown Galway Ireland, on the sunny morning of September 11 2001. I didn't know what I wanted to do.
I had quit my job at the Malthouse restaurant. I had little money left.
I hadn't been paid yet for the days I'd worked, and hadn't yet been in the mood to return for my wages.
I'd considered going to Kilkenny when I had been living in Dublin. That was in the back of my mind. Lying there in the sun on the grass, I decided to call the Kilkenny Tourist Hostel. I had the number. I had my mobile telephone.
I asked the woman at the hostel if she felt there was work available in Kilkenny. She'd seen a few signs posted in windows about town. So I booked a bed for that night. I went to the train/bus station, just east of the park, and asked about the Bus Eireann schedule to Kilkenny. I had about 45 minutes to catch the only departure for that day.
I went to the Malt House to get my money.
I went to the hostel to get my pack.
The woman at the Bus Éireann office at the train station didn't know if the 1:00 bus to Athlone would connect there with the bus to Kilkenny.
Naturally, I wanted to know. She told me to ask the stationmaster. He didn't say much more, but he was very friendly, and he made me feel like the bus would make it to Athlone on time. So I boarded.