It might've been the Murphy's pint of beer I had the first night out in Cork that spurred my streak of bad luck. After taking approximately one sip, I dropped the glass. As I tried to move away from the glass, tiny pieces seeped into the bottom of my feet and in between my toes. Immediately, blood trickled onto my shoes. I spent the entire night sitting on the bathroom floor of the pub trying to make my feet stop bleeding.
When Father Linnane visited Cork, we went to the Ballymaloe Cooking School to learn how to make different meals. One of these meals required chopping cilantro. As a terrible cook, I was eager to do something I could manage and volunteered to chop away. The cook complimented my chopping skills and I beamed with pride. I can cook! After rubbing my itchy eyes, they filled with tears. The cilantro was still on my fingers. Two holes burned into my head as tears streamed down my face. My eyes were blood shot and glassy. After four weeks of blood shot eyes, I woke up in Rome and couldn't open my eyes. They wouldn't stay open and tears streamed down my face every time I looked at a light. My eyes looked purple. I was in desperate need of an eye doctor. She told me I couldn't wear my contacts for 10 days and needed antibiotic eye drops.
My bad luck didn't stop there. As a group, we visited Ireland's old war forts and we were allowed to climb to the top to see what soldiers really had to do. Half way to the top, my old boot with a missing heel (due to tripping on a cobble stone street earlier in the trip) slipped off the rock and I tumbled to the ground, smashing my digital camera onto the cement. My head whacked the ground and I sat up uneasily attempting to stand. With a minor ankle injury and a sore head, I turned on my camera praying for the best. The screen of the camera was white but it still managed to take pictures.
Perhaps my camera was broken, but I still had my laptop to upload the pictures and see what I had taken pictures of. That was until an entire glass of water slipped out of my hand and poured onto my laptop keyboard. I frantically grabbed a towel and wiped down the keyboard. The speakers, keys and trackpad were not working. I flipped the laptop upside down and hoped it would dry itself out. After days, the laptop was still broken.
I'm not sure what happened when I got to Ireland or why I was having such bad luck. I was missing the luck of the Irish. My friends started calling me "Bad Luck Abroad Allie". And Bad Luck Abroad Allie needed her luck to change.
My bad luck didn't stop there. As a group, we visited Ireland's old war forts and we were allowed to climb to the top to see what soldiers really had to do. Half way to the top, my old boot with a missing heel (due to tripping on a cobble stone street earlier in the trip) slipped off the rock and I tumbled to the ground, smashing my digital camera onto the cement. My head whacked the ground and I sat up uneasily attempting to stand. With a minor ankle injury and a sore head, I turned on my camera praying for the best. The screen of the camera was white but it still managed to take pictures.
Perhaps my camera was broken, but I still had my laptop to upload the pictures and see what I had taken pictures of. That was until an entire glass of water slipped out of my hand and poured onto my laptop keyboard. I frantically grabbed a towel and wiped down the keyboard. The speakers, keys and trackpad were not working. I flipped the laptop upside down and hoped it would dry itself out. After days, the laptop was still broken.
I'm not sure what happened when I got to Ireland or why I was having such bad luck. I was missing the luck of the Irish. My friends started calling me "Bad Luck Abroad Allie". And Bad Luck Abroad Allie needed her luck to change.
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