Yesterday I spent a thoroughly enjoyable evening out with friends. We started at a tapas-y restaurant and ended it in a cellar bar. The food was delicious but the portion too small as it turned out to be a starter and not a main. However the drinks were good and the chats were even better.
Leaving the tapas place behind we wandered up to a hidden bar below ground, but I have to admit I was feeling a little bit unsatisfied, my tummy wanting more. And while the talk and companionship was more than enough, as the witching hour came and went I couldn’t ignore the grumble in my belly any longer. So after hugs good-bye and a quick stroll on red heels I decided to indulge in a naughty burger before making my way home.
As I sat enjoying my guilty pleasure I noticed how many people seemed to have followed the same impulse and were being just as naughty as I was. There were couples sharing chips, hipsters chomping down on fish-burgers, post-theater goers with a cups of coffee, a homeless man enjoying some chicken nuggets and young girls and boys flirting over milkshakes. I was amazed at the variety of people around me, realising how seldom I frequent fast-food joints.
After I had emptied my tray, and left a few Euros on the homeless mans table, I walked down toward the quays to find a taxi. There was so much life on the streets around me, a mirror image of day-time activity, just slightly distorted. Instead of students, mums with prams and business people there were clubbers, couples and pleasure seekers invading the streets of Dublin. High heels clicking on the asphalt, laughter filling the air and kisses being stolen in archways.
Once I had reached my home, silence hugged me and I made myself a cup of tea to enjoy a few minutes of the silent night before I went to bed. The taste of the naughty burger still on my tongue making me smile as my tummy was satisfied and so was I.