“Blaaaaaaaaarf!”

I hear the strange noise before I see the obviously intoxicated man who is making it. I gasp and jump out of his way as he’s lurching in my direction. His hair is sticking up like a mad scientist. His eyes are bloodshot red. He smells like a distillery.

His shoulders bump into mine but I manage to move out of his way. Doing so is a major feat that requires a combination step/ turn like something out of the ballet classes I haven’t taken since I was young. But I pull it off just in time for him to vomit on the ground instead of all over my clothes.

He falls down and no one bothers to help him up. It looks like he could use a nap so after making sure that he’s still alive— although clearly in a drunken stupor— I continue heading the way I was going before he so rudely interrupted.

“You guys!” I complain to Tessa and Monique, but they’re too far ahead of me to hear me call out to them.

I shake my head, still a bit discombobulated. The last thing I expected to happen in a movie theater— even an outdoor one— was for a stranger to nearly knock me over and almost throw up on me. But I should have known to be prepared.

When people say the Irish like to drink, they’re not exaggerating. In fact, that might be a little bit of an understatement.

“This is why I didn’t even want to come out tonight,” I mumble, as I mostly catch up with my friends.

But they’re too drunk themselves— and too busy hurrying to join the line at the bar to order more alcohol— to pay any attention to me. At this point I’m just talking to myself, which is probably for the best.

I wish my friends would have witnessed my expert maneuvering out of the path of the drunken stranger and his barf so that I could have bragging rights forever. But I’m glad they didn’t hear me complain. I don’t want to be a spoilsport and ruin their fun even though this isn’t my kind of scene.

I didn’t come to Dublin to partake in the famed pastime of drinking oneself silly, but instead to study Irish literature. I’ve spent the last three months reading Joyce, Yeats and Heaney and exploring museums. 

But this is my last night here on my foreign exchange scholarship and tomorrow I must head back to Boston. So I let my friends take me out with them for once.

They’re girls I met in my class back at Boston University. When we found out we’d all be studying together in Dublin, we formed an instant friendship, even though we are completely different people.

We’re all obviously bookworms— being literature majors— but I’m the nerdy one while Tessa is the strong, take charge one and Monique is the fun party girl. We became flat mates and I enjoy their company but I don’t enjoy going out.

I thought that agreeing to go an open air cinema for a showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off would be a fairly tame— yet cold— event. I was right about it being cold, but not about much else.

The projector and comfortable, plush sofas are set up in the middle of Meeting House Square, which sounds like a place where fancy events are held— and often is. It looks almost like the courtyard of a Roman building, with columns all around and tent-like fabric that fails to shield us from the cruel March weather.

Everyone is wearing sweatshirts and huddled up next to their friends or lovers for protection from the elements. Except, of course, for the people too drunk to notice the temperature— including Tessa and Monique, who didn’t even bother to wear jackets.

“Why bother getting dressed up to go out if we’re just going to cover ourselves up with coats?” they had protested when I’d suggested it before we left.

“Good point,” I had answered.

I was talking about a different part of their point than they were. The part where it made no sense to get dressed up in skimpy clothes to go outside in cold weather. And perhaps I would extend that part to make a further point that it didn’t make sense to go out at all. Renting a movie and making popcorn is more my idea of a fun night.

But I would prefer to go to a movie over a bar so I was glad they had chosen to come here. I didn’t know, however, that on occasions such as tonight Meeting House Square was transformed into both an outdoor movie venue and a bar.

Nor that my friends planned to go bar-hopping all around Dublin’s Temple Bar Square area— which offers plenty of options for that goal— as soon as the movie ends. They have since filled me in on such plans.

I join Tessa and Monique in line but by the time we reach the front of it the movie is almost over.

“Three shots of whiskey with Coke backs,” Tessa tells the bartender, and my mouth drops open.

“Tessa, this is my first drink of the night,” I protest. “Can’t we start off with one of those girly martinis you made me last week while we were watching Shameless at the flat?”

“No way,” she says. “It took you forever to drink that and we need to hop on over to a bar.”

She pushes the shot glass in my direction.

“Hurry up and down this before Ferris’ parents come home and find him sound asleep in his bed,” she commands.

“Hey, no spoilers,” Monique says.

“Oh come on,” Tessa says. “Like we haven’t all seen this movie a thousand times.”

I roll my eyes, but I down the drink and then quickly chug the soda to chase down the bitter taste that burns my throat. I had planned to have fun tonight and so far I haven’t so I guess I should loosen up and this drink should help.

I deserve to have a fun last night in Ireland, I think, as I finish off the soda. And I also deserve to celebrate my escape from nearly being puked on.

I don’t know why I have to be so antisocial all the time. All night I’ve been wishing I could curl up on one of the comfy- looking sofas and read a book on my Kindle.

I didn’t dare speak that thought to my friends, however, and I know that they would rightfully make fun of me for having them. It’s supposed to be Girls’ Night Out. It’s supposed to be fun.

“Come on,” Tessa says, grabbing my hand and pulling me in the direction of the street. “Movie’s over. Time to party.”

The credits are still rolling and we didn’t get to the part where Ferris emerges from his room and tells everyone to go home. But clearly there are more pressing matters at hand. Like partying. And whatever else the night has in store.