Fun Bus II

A Belgium G.A.A. away day, a bus and Johnny Phelan’s GPS. We joked about the Munich fun bus(not really) all the way from Carcassonne Airport to Toulouse. It was going so well; Collie at the wheel, Mull manning the GPS and myself, JP and Johnny sprawled across the back seats.

We were staying in the Mercure and Mull directed us through the narrow streets towards the hotel. France being France, the entry to the car park was ridiculously narrow. The barrier said the max vehicle height was 1.80. Mull confirmed he was 1.80 and got out to do the safety check. Indeed, he was taller than the bus but we were deeply suspicious he was on his tippy toes.

The garage door opened and down we went. Collie B wasn’t happy, the roof looked to be closing in on us. He hesitated and the garage door got jammed on the back of the bus as it tried to close. We urged him on. The lads were hanging out the window guiding him down. I was at the back providing some helpful commentary.

Someone said he had four inches over head. JP got back into the bus to confirm what he thought to be four inches with his hand gesture. It looked more like four cm and the mission was called to a halt. At this stage the sweat was hopping off Colin and there were about five lads - a mix of guests and employees - watching on.

Getting back out was going to be far from easy as we had gone quite a bit down the steep entrance. I’m not sure where our driver did his test but he was struggling with the hill start. The clutch burned and burned as we edged our way back up. Then another stop. Collie B had enough and called for help. One of the French onlookers reached in to help steer our bus back to street level. Embarrassing.

I started to test the water with a few jokes. JP looked terrified at the potential consequences. Then Mull chipped in. ‘This isn’t the hotel, it’s on another bit on the GPS!’. We all took a huge breath awaiting the explosion. It never came. Collie B was just happy to be out! In the end it turned out two of us were staying in that one but inexplicably, four of the lads were around 500m away in another Mercure.

We found a suitable car park nearby and Johnny got out to confirm the dimensions were all in order. As the bus passed under the barrier, Johnny followed by foot. But then he stopped to talk to Mull and the barrier came down and knocked the glasses clean off him!! Haunted.

A dodgy start but we recovered quickly. A few beers sitting outside admiring the lovely ladies and then it was off to The Melting Pot. We were just getting into it when a fella stumbled next to our table and spilt half a pint over Colin’s jacket. There was steam coming out his ears but he held his council as it was a work colleague of one of the lads.

We thought we’d be a bit less predictable and head to some local bars afterwards. It was a tricky scene to get into. I departed around 1am. Next was Johnny, then Collie B but JP and Mull were throwing shapes until 6am.

We were up and about in decent time on Saturday in the search for a few cans. This is a very easy task in Belgium as there are night shops at every corner. JP was promoting the cause of SPAR at home where you can get anything you want, be it sausage rolls, beer or whatever. We succeeded in the end, even if they were warm.

Hagan was on the scene at this stage, already having texted through a concern that morning relating to tickets. He reckoned we had to pick them up at Castres stadium – the bones of an hour and a half drive away! We knew it wasn’t going to sell out so we didn’t panic.

The craic was good en route to the match. However, once there it was a bit of a letdown. The Munster fans were scattered all over the stadium and it was far from full. Of course, most people know how it finished; ROG knocking over a handy kick at the death.

We got briefly separated after the game but reconvened in a tennis club next to the stadium. The lads were tucking into plates of cheese and ham and had cracked open a bottle of red wine. It was a quiet kind of place, not somewhere they would be used to a good row.

I don’t know who brought up Saipan but I couldn’t hold myself. What continuously annoys me about the ‘Mick camp’ is that their whole argument revolves around how Keane ‘walked out on his country’. They flatly refuse to acknowledge the facts – which in this case are, as ‘Mick’ told us, that Roy Keane was sent home.

Anyway, another table intervened and to be honest, I’m not sure how it all came about. Whatever happened, Mull ended up pointing at one of the lads at the table and repeatedly asking him if he was from Waterford. The significance of this was lost on us. Yer man responded by telling Mull that while he was pointing one finger at him, he was pointing three back at himself. After calming Mull, we were about to leave when Hagan spilt a glass of red wine on Collie B!! ‘Paul, these are €150 jeans!’ He’d lost the group at that stage as we struggled to contain ourselves!

We’d learned our lesson the night before so stayed mainstream Saturday night. That meant Trevor Brennan’s De Danu bar. The place was hopping. We ran into a few of the Toulouse G.A.A. crew and I had finally linked up with David Shortall at this point. Shorty plays with Kinsale but only joined after I had left so I felt it necessary to give him a full debrief on a host of topics. I’m sure he felt it valuable and necessary input!!!

With no knowledge of the city, it was remarkable that we all managed to walk home unaided both nights. When we left De Danu, myself and Mull were across the street waiting for Colin. He was trying to read a map upside down and get some directions. We were eager to push on so went over to speed up the process. Feeling brave, I ‘playfully’ knocked the map out of his hand once or twice. I’m usually pretty good at judging his temper but he got very cranky. He may well have pinned me up against the wall leaving my legs dangling! Off he stormed leaving myself and Mull to rely on our instinct.

By the time I got back to the room, the whole thing had been forgotten and he extracted revenge with an exhibition of snoring.

The journey back was far less eventful if you leave out the fact that myself and Mull panned out in the airport and when we work up everyone had boarded the plane!!

Next stop London.