Rollin, Rollin, Rollin

In beautiful Ireland, there are about 42 different shades of green. It is magnificently pretty. On our tour through the countryside, we bounced along little rural roads through fields and hills. On occasion, a spot would spring up that constitutes a photo. On our last stop, we parked near a farmer's gate to look out over the bay. We landed the massive charter bus on a steep incline, and used every bit of break power possible to keep from sliding down the hill.

Before exiting, we were warned to stay off the farmer's land. He is apparently known for spreading manure on the gate to ward off curious tourists. With that noted, we climbed out, snapped a quick picture and boarded the bus again. It was about 11:30 and hunger was setting in. The women I am traveling with packed fantastic snacks, AND they share. :)

After all had found their seat, it was fairly quiet (our chatty tour guide had yet to appear) except for the sound of Lori's voice offering peanut m&ms. We couldn't resist. She passed them to the seat behind her, and finally to us. After Lisa and I each had a handful, I attempted to pass the large bag of candy back up to Lori. My endeavor proved faulty as the sugary loot slipped out of my fingers and landed on the floor of the bus. Ordinarily this would not have been quite the tragic situation; however, as we were on a steep incline, the sound of marbles barreling down the bus echoed in the weary silence. Embarrassed, I ducked as all eyes turned to set accusations.

And THAT, perhaps, is why you aren't supposed to have food on the bus. I owe Lori some m&ms.