I lied to Ian on our 8:00pm flight from Dublin to London. I had told him that I hadn't met an Irishman in London yet, so as we looked out the window over London, I said "ah, now I've met an Irishman in England".
I had in fact met two Irish lads at a pub in London Bridge. I wasn't a big fan - one was vaping indoors and mouthing something at me. If I recall, it was "you're sexy". The other managed to officially befriend my girl, Lucy, on Facebook. To my understanding, he is quite obnoxious. We both don't know how this happened amid our intent to remain distanced from this duo.
Ian, however, was the Irishman I wanted to meet. He originally tried to move away from me on our flight, mumbling "nothing against you of course". It was just that the row ahead was the emergency exit row - more leg room you see. I followed his lead, but made the mistake of assuming his accent was American.
Then, the Irish accent erupted, along with an hour long conversation of Dublin, historical sites, and skinny British boys. Ian's a PhD student with a hell of a sense of humor. Somehow this stranger who I will never see again, made my trip to Dublin, though already a trip for pleasure, a little more pleasurable.