Jackie Wells-Fauth
Since coming to Ireland, I have learned that the Vikings never technically invaded the island. After an attempt or two, hundreds of years ago, they left for greener pastures (or easier targets).
That was true until my latest vacation. I had been planning the trip of a lifetime. For six years and more, I have planned to go to Europe and most of all, I wanted to visit Ireland. During those six years of planning, Roy has researched, mapped out and done a lot of legwork to decide where we were going to travel.
I would look at his research and improvised itinerary while he was busy with Sunday afternoon football. “I like the idea of spending several days in London,” I remarked.
“No, no, no! Where’s the defense!” he yelled, shaking his fist at the television. That kind of response could only mean the Vikings must be on.
“I also like the idea of ending the trip with Dublin. It will be a nice wrap-up,” I continued, glad I don’t have to travel with the Vikings.
“That reminds me,” he said. “Guess who will be in Dublin while we are there? The Vikings!”
It couldn’t be. “Tell me it’s the kind who invade countries and not the kind who play football!”
“Oh it’s the Minnesota Vikings football team. They are playing the Pittsburg Steelers in Dublin and it is just a lucky coincidence that we are going to be there too. I think we should go to the game.”
Lucky coincidence. It’s just a lucky coincidence that on the trip I have been dreaming about for years, I would have the opportunity to see the Minnesota Vikings play football. On the last Sunday of my vacation. In Dublin, Ireland! Lucky how?
I don’t believe in coincidence. I think the Vikings did this on purpose. They loaded up their Viking ship, sharpened up their weapons—or footballs and planned on invading Ireland just to put a dagger into my vacation.
The worst part is that this time Ireland was welcoming the Vikings—and the Steelers. They had up banners and signs and flags all over the city of Dublin. So, what was otherwise described in the travel brochures as a lovely old world city with quiet, winding streets, turned into a full scale flood of people in Vikings and Steeler gear and the only question you heard from a millions mouths with American accents was: Are you here for the game?
No! I was there to see Ireland. Ireland, which held off the Vikings hundreds of years ago and suddenly couldn’t hold them out long enough for me to see the city without balloon structure of every description hanging everywhere in Viking and Steeler colors. Thanks a lot, all you Irish Paddys: now, instead of old-world charm I’m going to get American football like any other random Sunday! You couldn’t have held them off for one more week?
So it was, on the last Sunday of my dream vacation, I moved as one with a swarm of American invaders to the ball park, where they fought, not with swords, but with downs and touchbacks and referees blowing whistles.
Since it was technically a Steelers home game, we were hopelessly outnumbered in the fan department, but we put on our purple and gold nonetheless and prepared to back Minnesota’s play.
And then, even worse happened: by the end of the third quarter, the Vikings were down by 15 points and their invasion appeared to be thwarted by a Pittsburg Steeler win. The least you Vikings could have done was win…or score or something! No, no no! Where’s the defense???
As is the case with the Vikings of Minnesota, they came back in the fourth quarter so hard that instead of the Steelers fans singing their victory song, there was the sound of thousands of Steelers fans holding their breath as the Vikings livened up the game by coming within three points at the final whistle.
So once again, a Viking invasion of the beautiful green island of Ireland failed, but not before it had caused my vacation to take a very weird turn. Skoll, Vikings!
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