Oh eight hundred hours

A friend and I decided one drunken Christmas Eve that we would go to Ireland for St. Patricks Day. The next morning we bought round trip tickets to Dublin at an incredible price of $500! The catch? The arrival and departure dates were 3 weeks apart, thus we had 3 weeks to roam Europe.

As my friend was extremely busy at work, and I spent most of my days in la-la land, I took on the task of planning the trip.

3 weeks. 3 countries. 4 cities. $1200!

I even signed up for tripit to keep everything organized for my friend. (This program is great- anyone with the link and a computer can access your travel plans.)

The weeks leading up to the trip we discussed bar hopping with our friends then catching our late night flight. I thought communication between us was solid.

So the night that we are suppose to pre-game our flight arrives. I was working late until 8, when in a board meeting when the following conversation goes on via text.

___________________________

Hey can’t go out tonight

NP. C U at the airport tonight? Get there 10ish?

What?

We leave tonight.

**INCOMING CALL**

___________________________

Communication between us was clear except for one detail, the time of our flight. The scheduled departure was for 0:30 on Friday. When I said Friday, I meant Friday. When she said Friday, she meant the end of Friday.

A frantic friend rushed to the airport, with enough time to relax and grab a few pints at the airport bar. Moral of this story, use military time, I always do.