I am telepathically urging the taxi driver to move faster. It’s not working. Not even the slightest bit.
As I sit in this taxi cab, the ridiculousness of my schedule has finally hit me. I intend to travel across three countries today. First though, I have to make it through Dublin’s early morning traffic to get to the Irish Ferry Port. Unfortunately, even the elderly gentlemen walking alongside the River Liffey is making better time than me.
I stare out the window, examining the Samuel Beckett Bridge that reminds me of a giant harp stretching into the blue, cloudy sky. It is a perfect day to be at sea. I like to think of this trip as my first sea voyage, even though my journey to Holyhead, Wales will only take a couple hours. We move a couple feet forward. (“Nearly there” says the taxi driver kindly.) We pass the gaunt, stick-like people of the famine memorial, and I’m thankful that I get to travel in such comfort.
I think of all the sea voyages I have read about. I think about ancient tales like the Odyssey with cyclops and sea serpents, and the biblical story of Jonah who’s swallowed by a whale. I think of books such as Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, a story I still need to read. I think of more recent tales, such as the Life of Pi, where a boy finds himself in an ocean of uncertainty.
The taxi’s now moving. Backpack securely on and the ships coming into view, I swear I can taste the adventure to come.