A man positioned above me and off to my right snapped a picture with a mounted camera, (he probably did this all day too) just at the same time as my lips met the cold, rough stone and the “Gift of Gab” was magically transferred into me.
In the same, sing-song Irish brogue, the guide helped me contort my way back out of the awkward position and onto my feet. I had no more than taken a step forward before I heard the guide behind me sing his instructions to the next person in this assembly line of “stone kissing tourists.”
The steps were just as slippery going down and I held onto the sides of walls with both hands as I slowly made my way back down.
After going to the gift counter and paying my 15 euros for the obligatory souvenir picture of my kissing of the Blarney Stone, I made my way to Diana’s bench and sat down beside her.
“How was it?” She asked as she turned her head towards me and squinted her eyes in the sunshine.
“Okay.” I said, shrugging my shoulders and looking back at her.
She was silent for a few seconds before she finally observed.
“After kissing the Blarney Stone, I thought you’d have more to say than that.”