The Americans wanted an argument and they weren’t going to take no, or indeed yes, for an answer.
They arrived late at night and parked their car width-ways across the driveway, blocking it, while ignoring the parking area a few feet further on where there is space for about ten cars around a central fountain.
I went out and asked them politely to move and they said they would, when they were ready. But first they wanted to stand on the driveway and complain about the cost of the hire car, the narrowness of the Irish roads, and the fact that their flight had taken nearly two days with three changes because they didn’t want to pay extra for a direct one.
Then they confronted me about why Google Maps had the dot for my front gate further down, so shouldn’t I move the gate to where it was on the screen? Yes, I said, I could rip the gate out and move it to match Google Maps, or we could all just accept that the dot on Google Maps is wrong.
They didn’t hear. They were too busy talking. They were from the west coast, and presented to me, I’m afraid to say, as what I call left-whingers.
For 20 minutes they stood on the doorstep refusing to come in, shivering in the cold, and arguing that the house was somewhere else, because they could not admit they were in an abusive relationship with Google Maps, an addiction verging on the strength of crack for some people now.
‘Anyway, let’s get you inside so you can relax,’ I said, cheerily. ‘Yeah. Let’s see this place,’ she harrumphed, and the pair of them slouched into the hallway. Before I could get them up the stairs, he leaned against the dresser where I display the tourist leaflets and began to complain in more detail about the hire car: ‘It was €500 and then they wanted another 300 for a damage waiver.’
‘Hire cars are expensive in Ireland,’ I decided to say, because it’s best to agree with guests who are unhappy at the outset and who attempt to pin stuff on you that is not in your purview. But he stiffened and said: ‘No they’re not. They’re the same as America. The hire car wasn’t expensive. It was incredibly cheap.’
‘Right, I see,’ I said, and I tried to move them towards the stairs but he went on arguing with himself while leaning on the dresser, which lurched dangerously.
I managed to get her up to the room while he went for the bags. He then refused the builder boyfriend’s offer of help and smashed their suitcases upstairs, sweating and heaving and swinging the cases, and damaging as much of the wall paint as possible before dumping them down on the upstairs landing and demanding: ‘Are there other people in this house with us?’ No, I wanted to say. You’ve hired an entire seven-bedroom Georgian country estate for €80 a night. I said: ‘There are two very nice German ladies in the room opposite you.’
‘Well, it’s always good to know there’s someone so close who can hear everything,’ he said sarcastically. She was shivering. ‘Do you want the heating on?’ I said, showing them the thermostat. ‘No, we tend to run hot,’ she snapped. And they shut their door and proceeded to shout at each other until gone midnight.
The next morning, they came down and complained that they had not had any sleep. ‘There are two major issues I want to tell you about,’ he said, very loudly, so the nice German ladies in the dining room quietly eating their breakfast could hear.
He leaned against the counter and the kitchen units creaked. She slammed her backside down on a chair that wobbled as the joints nearly gave way. ‘The first issue,’ he said slowly, ‘is that I have sleep apnea.’ He paused for effect. ‘I have to use an apparatus, but I couldn’t plug it in because your plug sockets don’t fit my appliance.’
‘You didn’t bring an adaptor then,’ I said.
‘The second issue,’ he continued, ignoring me, ‘is that I am allergic to cats. I am having an attack.’ And he forced himself to wheeze. ‘Now wait a minute,’ I said.
His wife had told me about this allergy when she booked and I told her very clearly that we have cats, and while our cats don’t go into the bedrooms, they’re loose in the house.
‘This was discussed,’ I said, feeling bullish. ‘I can offer you a refund so you can find somewhere else.’
‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘we’re not leaving. We couldn’t find anywhere as cheap as this.’
‘Look, we’re not complaining,’ he complained. ‘I just need a very specific type of antihistamine.’ I said there was a pharmacy in the village. I opened a drawer and took out an adapter. ‘When you go to the chemist you might want to buy yourself one of these for the rest of your trip.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘This one will be enough.’ ‘You can’t take that with you.’ ‘Thanks,’ he said, pocketing it.
I prayed before smiling very widely and informing them I would be cooking them an Irish breakfast.
‘I’ve got to turn my back on you now, but I’m not ignoring you. I’m cooking for you,’ I said as I got frying. I thought the cooked breakfast would placate them.
But when I turned around she had walked away. He ate half his bacon and egg, then wandered off. Minutes later he shouted down the stairs: ‘Don’t clear my plate! I’m not finished!’
Eventually, I found her standing by the open front door watching the rain. ‘I can feel a twinge in my throat. This is what I’ve been dreading. We haven’t been out of our house since Covid. I should have worn a mask on the plane. Now look at this awful weather.’
‘Sorry about the rain,’ I said.
‘You’re talking to someone from the west coast of America!’ she shouted into my face. ‘You don’t need to worry about me and rain! I’m used to rain! I love it!’
‘Of course. I love it too,’ I agreed, which was the worst thing I could do to her.
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