Doonbeg Lodge

Drew was working like a crazy man in the month of February and I literally hardly saw him, he never slept - it was awful!  He pretty much wrapped up the client he'd been working on at 5am a couple Thursdays ago, and we were on the road to Doonbeg Lodge for some rest and relaxation 7 hours later.

Drew has a tendency to book travel when he's busy/stressed (for something to look forward to, I'd imagine), so Thursday afternoon we decided to go for it.

Doonbeg is located on the West coast of Ireland, close to Shannon.  It was built in the early 2000s by some South Carolinian business guys as a resort and golf club, and it was just recently bought by Donald Trump!  We'd heard great things and wanted to treat ourselves (or Drew, mostly)!

We drove the 3 hours there, explored the grounds, the cottage, took a nap, and headed up to Darby's Pub in the lodge for drinks and din.

Salmon with tagliatelle and clams in a white wine cream sauce.    Lovely.

A meaty lamb shank for Drewsome. 

Saturday morning, we ate brekkie in the gorgeous dining room overlooking the water before Drew's tee time at 9:15.  He wasn't paired with anyone so I got to walk along the course with him!  He called me his caddy but mostly I just tried to stay warm by bouncing around and occasionally looked for lost golf balls.

French Toast.  Yum yum.

Views from the course:

Look at that form!

At hole 14, there was an "exit" to the beach so I cut over and strolled along the coast back to the lodge.

I met Drew for lunch and some beers and then went to get a massage in their spa.  And this is how I found Drew when I got back:

That night, we went to Darby's Pub again for some drinks before our 8:30 booking.  We were each having a Guinness when two older Irish men seated next to us started chatting us up.  They wanted to know where we were from, why we were there, what we thought of the place (they were members who lived in the next village over), and eventually bought us another round of drinks.  They'd been there drinking since early afternoon so they were already feeling good at this point, I'd say.  Dermot and Johnny then insisted that we take some sort of "Texas shot".  Drew and I racked our brains and couldn't think of anything that constituted a "Texas shot" so we suggested tequila - the only kind the pub had - and asked for some limes.  "Of course we have limes!" the bartender scoffed.  And he then proceeded to bring us lemons.

Dermot, who was getting increasingly drunk and slurry, eyed us suddenly.  "Hey.  Hey.  You two ever do coke?" he asked, tapping the side of his nose.  

Drew nearly spit out his beer while I clarified, "You mean like...cocaine?"  

"Yeah!  Cocaine!  You guys ever do that?" he repeated.  I chuckled but  had no idea where this was going.  Was he looking to buy some?  Was he wanting to sell some?  Johnny just smiled and continued watching the girls rugby match ("They have to shave their beards off every morning, poor girls!")  

I had to explain multiple times, despite his disbelief, that neither one of us had ever done coke and he was sorely disappointed - he evidently realllllllllly wanted to know what it was like to be on it.  They then forced us to take an Irish Flag shot with them, we had some more chats and laughs, and we finally extricated ourselves from the funny/uncharacteristic situation when our table was ready.  Thank God.

The Irish Flag shot: layers of Creme de menthe, Bailey's, and Brandy.
Pretty damn good, actually.

Thumbs up before din.

After another great night's sleep and a rich breakfast, we were on our way again.  The weekend was just what the doctor ordered.  Cheers to the [technical] end of busy season!