Hitting on Firefighters in Wales
What does it take for you to say that you’ve visited a place?
If you change planes in Frankfurt, do you say you’ve visited Germany? If you’ve driven through Delaware for 45 minutes, do you check it off?
Purists insist you need to sleep somewhere before you mark it as visited. If that’s the case, then very few people have visited Vatican City, and despite my three trips there, I’ve never visited Washington, DC.
Clearly, this debate will not be resolved anytime soon!
For me, I choose to say that I’ve visited a place if I’ve had a memorable experience there. And that is why I say I’ve visited Wales.
In the summer of 2001, my family and I traveled to Ireland, England, and France. After concluding the Ireland portion of our itinerary – filled with music, pubs, and salmon – we took the ferry from Dublin to Holyhead, Wales. The plan was to hire a car and drive to Bath, later driving to London.
Well, we didn’t plan on arriving in Wales to screaming alarms and pouring smoke. Yep, the ferry terminal was on fire. But that wasn’t the most exciting part.
A few minutes after we were evacuated, the fire trucks showed up. Men in full fire gear walked into the main doors of the terminal, axes and fire hoses in hand…
Every woman outside the ferry terminal had started catcalling.
The firemen, incredibly, briefly ignored the flames to turn to the women, sheepishly smiling and waving to each of them.
My mom grabbed a nearby Welshman. “Do they always do this to firefighters?”
He smirked. “Any man in uniform.”
Keep that in mind, ladies. Anytime you see a hot Welshman in uniform, you are free to make your move!