Shrugging my shoulders, I didn't mind.
That's when he noticed Sarah and no longer gave a damn about his coat.
"Hi Doug," she said to the big, burly red headed Irishman over the noise.
"I'm not Doug," he laughs downing a third of a pint in the first gulp.
"That's Doug," he said pointing to a man at the bar. "I'm Richard."
"That's alright," Sarah laughs, "I was shooting the shat!"
Roaring with laughter, Richard smells of the earth, has massive dirty hands and I can't tell when's the last time he brushed his teeth.
"What do you do?" I ask.
"Surf," he grins. "I like to ride the big waves."
It never dawned on me there are surf shops in Ireland but they're everywhere.
"Hey ya cock," he says staring at my half eaten Salmon, greens and potatoes. "Don't you want to be healthy?"
Scooping up the greens with one hand he stuffs them in his mouth like he's Popeye eating spinach.
Sarah's expression is frozen before she explodes into laughter.
"I rarely finish a meal," I explain.
"That's what makes you a cock," he roars grabbing the salmon and stuffing it in mouth.
Finished eating, Richard turns his complete attention to Sarah standing perilously close as they launch into a dialogue about the Garda, the country's police force.
"Ah, the women are rough," he tells her as he admires everything about her. "They be the ones that hurt you."
The Pub grew increasingly crowded but after a full day of travel I was fading fast.
By now Richard's rolling a cigarette spying girls searching for a seat and he strikes out to help them.
I pay the bill and as we make our way outside, I interrupt whatever he's telling them to say, "I'm done watching your coat."
He roars with laughter and calls me a cock.
