A drink of bath water

Nearly two weeks into our America trip and it's been a whirlwind!  Isla has met nearly all of her American friends and family and has traveled more than any four month old baby I know...except for Brangelina's children.  We've seen my best friend get married where Barry was a hit the whole wedding weekend.  Everyone liked his Irish accent...in fact, one guy liked it so much he insisted on drinking whatever Barry was drinking "even if it was bath water."  Well, thankfully Barry wasn't drinking bath water, because if he was, that would likely be the last time he'd kiss me with his bath water breath.  But anyway, his Irish accent was liked so much, nearly everyone wanted to hear him talk all night.  I suppose it is a lovely accent...it's unfortunate that I no longer hear his accent. He just sounds like Barry to me.  The same goes for him...he no longer hears my American accent...he just hears the nagging wife, a.k.a. Lesley :). 

At the rehearsal dinner.

Speaking of Barry's wee brogue, the majority of the wedding weekend Barry wasn't having the best of luck communicating.  Most people actually didn't understand him.  It was so bad in fact, he...had...to...talk...like...this.  Super duper slow...and even then people still had trouble.  That was until they started drinking!  After the drinks were flowing (not bath water), Barry came to the realization that drunk West Virginians and sober Irish people were actually on the same level as to where they could communicate.  Barry no longer had to speak like a spastic and everyone was able to understand him perfectly.  Who says alcohol doesn't fix problems? 

So, after my friend was united in Holy Matrimony (she ignored my advice to run screaming in the opposite direction),and shot off on her honeymoon, we drove down to Myrtle Beach, S.C. which is where we are now enjoying the sun and heat because we know once were back in Ireland, the heat and sun will go bye bye.

Barry's Irish-ness is also on full display here as well (and I'm not talking about his penchant for wearing a green t-shirt that says Ireland which he wore today).  I'm referring once again to his accent.  At dinner last night:
Waitress:  What would you like to drink?
Barry: Coke
Waitress: We have Pepsi products not Coke.
Barry: Ok, Pepsi then.
Waitress: What?  We don't have Pepsi.
Barry: Looking at me, confused.  Okay, Water.
Waitress: Coke?
Barry: What?
Waitress: Coke, then.

Barry outside P.F. Chang's in his Ireland shirt.

Now, I don't think it was Barry's accent in this case but perhaps the waitress' lack of brains here. In fact, it must be a server training course (lack of brains 101) all the servers at Myrtle Beach go through because tonight at dinner, we had another weird incident.

Waiter: Are you from Ireland? Looking at Barry's t-shirt.
Barry: Aye.
Waiter: My dad was Irish.
Barry: Here we go, he thought.  Everyone here always says their daddy, great-grandaddy etc. was Irish. Right, okay.
Waiter: My mother is Italian.  From Sicily.
Barry: Right, okay.  Well, that's not right, he thought...she's Sicilian not Italian that's different. And, where is your dad from exactly?
Waiter: New Foundland.
Barry: What? I thought he was Irish.Isn't that up in Canada somewhere?
Waiter:  Yeah, but he considered himself Irish.

Um, okay then weird Myrtle Beach servers.