I fell asleep even before my head hit the pillow last night. I’d been up since 7:00 the day before, having spent a sleepless night on my trip from London to Dublin. The 3:30 a.m. ferry crossing followed a seven-hour bus trek across England and Wales. It was dark before we even got out of London, so there wasn’t even any scenery to enjoy. I was bored.

The lady next to me was reading a Fabio-covered romance novel. The lead male had “thundering loins,” and the female character was named Jessica.

By the time we reached the boat, I had a real emotional involvement in the book’s outcome.

Did Jessica leave her rich husband for the rebellious man with the loud crotch, or did she stay in an unrewarding relationship for the money?

I’ll never know. It was time to get on the boat. I thought for a moment about finding the lady again on the ferry and reading the conclusion over her shoulder, but that just seemed wrong. Instead, I went exploring.

I don’t think the 3:30 a.m. crossing is that popular, for some reason.

The boat was mostly empty, save for the places that looked even remotely like they’d be comfortable to sleep in. I went to the pub and heard a couple Americans talking in the corner.

Everyone else was sleeping in front of their beers. I joined my countrymen, and we talked for a couple hours. Then they went to find somewhere to sleep.

It was getting light out so I went up on the deck. I could see Ireland in the distance and for the first time noticed the gentle rocking of the sea.

I started to feel sick so I walked over to the railing, just in case. I got over it and realized it was very cold. The wind whipped across the deck. I wished I had my jacket, but a London bird decided to take a crap all over its sleeve.

Nuts. I retired to a lounge area and grabbed a copy of USA Today to see how Iowa State was faring in the basketball tournaments. A little later, we docked in Dublin.

My legs were unexpectedly wobbly from the boat. Honest, it was the boat.

I didn’t visit the Guinness brewery or a pub until hours later and could walk just fine afterwards.

Dublin is a real city. I’ve only been here for 24 hours, but I get the feeling that it’s not just a place to “be.” I can imagine real people living here and real things happening within its bounds.

Don’t get me wrong. Dublin has its share of tourists and traps, but unlike central London, these places don’t dominate the landscape. You can find shops selling all manner of things with the phrase “Kiss me, I’m Irish” emblazoned on them, but you’ll need to do a bit of searching.

In place of the shops where you buy the obligatory tacky souvenir are second-hand furniture stores, carpet warehouses, and even a bait-‘n-tackle shop, all right in the Temple Bar district, the heart of “tourist Dublin.”

There’s not a condescending “Welcome, foreigner!” atmosphere to be found. Just the “Welcome” part.

Pubs are the most abundant establishments, it seems, but the Irish do have a reputation to uphold.

I visited three pubs myself last night. I latched on to a musical pub crawl, led by a couple of traditional Irish musicians.

This seemed a little on the clich‚d side, but I went with it. There was actually a fair number of Dublin locals in the crowd, and it was a good bunch overall.

Most of the people were older, retired folks, but there were also a handful of students.

We students sat in a clump and talked about where we had been, where we were going next, and what to see and do while we were in Dublin.

All this was to the background of some great music.

The music was enough to bring out the Michael Flatley in even the least graceful of men.

Encouraged by a few pints of Guinness, one guy hopped out of his chair and started dancing. “I’m the Lord of the Rings!” he shouted as he stomped and clapped to a rhythm of his own making.

I watched as Frodo cut the rug and had a laugh with some people I met from Missouri. Around 11:00 p.m., I was ready to drop.

I’m sure Dublin was good for a few more hours, but I needed recharging.

I caught a cab back to the hostel and went to sleep.

Now I’ve got to find something to do with myself until the music starts tonight. I’m sure I can find something.

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Chris Crouch is a sophomore in political science from Rapids City, Ill.