As my apparently very bad luck would have it, it begins to rain. I walk further down the alley, sure that there must be a major throughway just around the corner. But every time I pass a corner, the only thing that greets me is more alleyway.
The light drizzle begins to turn into a near downpour.
Great.
I partially remove the sleeves of my jacket and hoist it up over my head. I contemplate going back to the square and waiting for a cab but it can take over an hour in Dublin on a regular day, let alone during peak pub crawling time on a Saturday night.
Although I had originally thought the wait would be shorter once I reached a less crowded street, now I’m thinking I can just walk back home. I’m not completely sure where I am but it seems that I’m getting closer to my flat.
However, it also seems that the area is getting seedier. Garbage fills the alley way now, remnants of people having been here and not bothering to have cleaned up after themselves. A chill runs down my spine.
What the hell was I thinking, leaving my friends and going out into the strange area all by myself at night? This isn’t like me at all. But neither is going club hopping or confessing my virginity.
I start to think I should have just gone home to finish my Trevor book much earlier. I shouldn’t have spent so long outside talking to Tessa and Monique about the past.
Nonsense, I chide myself. I’ve had a great last night in Dublin. Tonight was the last night I could drink, could let loose and actually go out, before returning home to a rigorous study regimen. They’ll be plenty of time to read then— for work and for fun.
I finally get to a street and the sign says Sherriff Street. It looks like a thoroughfare where perhaps I could catch a cab instead of continuing to have to walk in the rain trying to find my way. There are even some people further down the way—if I squint, I can make them out.
It looks like they’re passing by on their way to a pub but the pub must be seedier and more of a dive bar than the one I’ve just come from. The people look rather scruffy and dangerous and the area looks dirty.
I keep walking. I still have my jacket pulled over my head and I hope no one noticed me.
I’m reticent to continue down more and more alley ways. But I also don’t want to get myself into any trouble with people in a rough area with which I’m completely unfamiliar. The safest decision seems to be the dark alley instead of the frightening crowd.
But as I continue on my way I see two men in the distance. Two men. I squint and make out the first man raise his arm and knock the other man on the side of his head. The second man raises his fists as if he wants to fight back but the first one pounds him upside the head again.
The first man is large and menacing, while the second is quite small in comparison. The second one lets out some grunts, seeming to beg the first one to stop the violence.
I know I should turn and run away but it’s like seeing a train wreck. I feel frozen and compelled to watch, my feet stuck to the pavement and my mouth hanging open.
The bigger man continues pummeling the smaller one, knocking him upside the head until he falls over onto the ground. My heart races as the first man begins kicking and stomping on the first man, shouting something I can’t quite make out. I gather that the words form sentences that sound something like “I told you so” and “teach you and yours a lesson” but nothing is making any sense right now.
I feel that I should call out and try to stop this chaos from happening but my better reason takes over and I realize that could be very dangerous. I also don’t think it would help anything. The first man continues kicking the second until he is apparently satisfied that his job is finished.
And then he looks up and sees me, staring wide- eyed and shocked right back at him, although, luckily, from a distance.
Holy shit.
Now I really need to turn and run away, and I do. I run faster than I ever thought I could, down the alleyway and back to Sherriff Street. I careen around the corner and making a mad dash for the people I had just a few moments ago decided I hadn’t wanted to be around.
Being around them seems like the best idea right now. I barrel down the direction in which I had seen people walking, wanting to shout out for help but also not wanting to attract even more attention from the man I just witnessed commit some heinous crime.
At last I am among other people and although I’m out of breath and panting, no one seems to notice. They’re drunk and quite rowdy, singing drinking songs and fighting about politics. This does look like a seedier pub area— somewhere that Monique and Tessa avoid when they go out.
I pretend that I belong among them, hoping that I blend in well enough to hide in between the boisterous pub crawlers. When I dare to turn back around, I see the man from the alleyway, searching the crowd for my face.
Cars speed down the street and I think about throwing myself in front of one of them and begging the driver to take me somewhere, anywhere, to get me out of here. That idea isn’t much of a plan because it could backfire stupendously on me. So I continue my way with the crowd until we reach a street corner.
Luckily, it looks like a major crossroad and I see a cab in the distance. I step out into the street and wave my arm like a lunatic, hoping and praying that the cab driver will let me in.
Miraculously, I manage to flag him down.
“Where to, Miss?” he asks.
I hop in and say, “Please start driving,” before he can ask me again.
I’m panting and breathless, searching for the man from the alleyway. I see him behind me, peering at the cab, and I can only hope and pray that he doesn’t have a way to follow me. I have a flight home tomorrow— I just need to get out of here and home to Boston and put this nightmare behind me.
What started as a fun last night in Dublin has now turned into a gruesome event. And the best I can hope for in the future is that it will only be a terrifying memory.
I give the cab driver my address as soon as I can think straight.
“Are you okay, Miss?” he asks, peering at me from the rearview mirror.
“I don’t know,” I tell him, which is the most honest and raw thing I’ve said all night— even after having spilled my guts to Tessa and Monique. “I hope so but I really don’t know.”