I awoke before dawn only to wait around to leave for the day. My father has an affinity for beckoning us into the morning sun in the most annoying way possible, by calling out our names one by one, piercing the beautiful darkness as we revel in a little rem cycle. I managed to get dressed and lightly paint my face in enough time to relax for about a half an hour until we loaded the turd and found a breakfast joint.

Breakfast, by the way, was great. My mother found a cute little diner-esque chain called Frankie & Benny’s where I was able to get a steaming latte and some waffles slathered in chocolate and bananas. I was in heaven. We also happened to be the only humans – and yes, I said humans because artistic license – sat in the restaurant bright eyed and bushy tailed at 8:00 a.m.

After breakfast we did a little shopping, and of course, I picked up a few things that I absolutely didn’t need. The real kicker to this story is that we drove 10 hours and didn’t really do anything spectacular in Glasgow because my older brother decided to nap until late last night; so, we weren’t actually able to go out on the town. It also didn’t help that instead of heading into the city today, we saw the absolute worst movie ever. Here’s a tip for all you avid readers – don’t waste your hard-earned cash on a ticket to Holmes and Watson. It was straight garbage, and we will never get back that two hours in the theater.

Once the IQ-draining attempt at comedy ended, we headed back to the turd and began the trek to the ferry that would take us to Ireland. The drive was absolutely beautiful; we drove along the Irish Sea bordering a wall of serene cliffs. I wish I could have captured the deer munching on some grass while perched on the tiniest rock ledge. All I managed to screengrab was the blurry semblance of an animal shape, but no matter.

We finally arrived at the ferry, and of course, when it was our turn to drive onto the awaiting ship, the car in front of us did not have any passengers in it; so, we had to drive around the car and make things more complicated. Once parked, we climbed several flights of steps and made ourselves right at home in the dining area for the two-hour boat ride to Ireland.

During this leg of the journey, I consumed two coffees, which made my motion sickness worse and gave my bladder a run for its money. My sister and I also had an impromptu photoshoot on the deck overlooking the sunset, which was so windy, I thought I was going right over the rail. Inside the cabin, one could hear the deafening bark of an unhappy little bugger of a dog, the screams of children, and various accents pervading the ear canal. All of this did not help with the motion sickness; at one point, my mother took off her shoes, claiming that it helped. New cure? The world may never know.

Eventually, we arrived in Ireland, ready for a real meal. We drove off the boat, and after a few attempts at finding a restaurant and not a pub, we landed on a place that fit the bill. We ate and drank … well, some of us drank. I opted for chocolate milk instead like a real child. We laughed and dined, and after finishing the bottle of wine my mother ordered, we hopped into the turd once again to make the last little bit of the journey to our lodging for the next two days. Now, this is where the story gets mighty interesting because it was the most disastrous part thus far. Let me paint the scene for you …

From the restaurant, it was about an hour and fifteen-minute ride to the next Air BnB. My brother programmed the address into the trusty GPS, and we made it to the exact address … located smack dab in the middle of the road. Now, clearly someone was in the wrong, and obviously it wasn’t us this time around. I kid you not, it took us over an hour to find the correct building. Expletives were flying, tempers were tested, and passive aggression bled through the walls of the turd into the vicinity. It also didn’t help that the owner of the wonderful apartment we are staying in decided to give the vaguest directions possible. It seems as if people do not like to reveal their exact location in this part of the world – it happened with the company that held our lost luggage hostage, and now this.

It looked like the three musketeers (my mother, my father, and my eldest brother) were attempting to break into various apartment complexes while also speaking at the highest volume possible. We drove up and down the same road about eight times, opened random sheds to find a mysterious key in a mug, and made various illegal U-turns. We were a hot mess of a family, but we made it and only at the ripe hour of 11:30 p.m.

At least I had three coffees to get me through the day, but the caffeine highs have faded leaving me deliriously tired; so, stay tuned for tomorrow’s adventures in Dublin. Grab your deliciously steaming mugs, and enjoy my family’s insane journey through Europe before it ends in a few short days.