AU: Rose of Aberdeen (Josh)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

New York University held a study abroad program to allow students to gain exposure to other cultures, as well as to study other forms of higher education. For those places abroad wherein English was not the primary language, students were expected to learn about their language and culture; typically, students found themselves minoring, if not majoring in, that particular language subject. For those places abroad wherein English was the primary language, students were expected to study civics or history. Occasionally, an architectural student or anthropology student used a place for their thesis subject.

Joshua Bernstein had entered the study abroad program and had gone to Ireland to learn about the origins of common law and how they merge with other systems (since Ireland had been independent for fifty years but remained heavily influenced by British lawmaking) for his law studies. He and the other socially-conscious students were there for humanitarian advocacy as well, due to the widespread police brutality against the mostly Catholic population by the primarily Protestant police force.

He and the other NYU students had been given rooms at the University of Dublin, where they also attended their classes. Outside of class, he and the other law students focused on documenting human rights abuses, on petitions to bring back to the U.S., and on getting to know the local population.

The last proved the easiest, as the campus possessed a vibrant area of small businesses, including more pubs and restaurants than they could count. One in particular, the Stags Head, boasted greater traditional culture than some of the pubs that had opened within the last century.

The students went out on weekends, and, one Saturday night, Josh went off to the Stags Head while two of his friends went off to a club having ladies night.

Before entering the establishment, the sounds of traditional Irish folk music blasted forth. Near the back of the large main room, a group of people played a band, while encouraging people to come up and sing.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh smiled as he pushed open the doors. Back home he might have joined in the singing; his voice was untrained and not especially good, but he at least could carry a tune and, more importantly, had no trouble with attention. What anxiety he suffered was largely related to parental acceptance rather than performances and public speaking.

However, he was only passingly acquainted with Irish folk music. It wasn't the music his parents had shared with him growing up. It wasn't the music he'd heard at Synagogue. It wasn't the music he and his friends had bought on vinyl records or that has played on the radio.

He had made an effort to listen primarily to Irish music now that he was in Ireland, but listening to and actually knowing the lyrics such that he could sing along were separate items.

Still, he recognized the tune such that he hummed along as he made his way to the bar.

There were as always plenty of people about and so when he found an empty stool he smiled at the occupants on either side of it. "Is this seat taken?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Both men shook their heads; one of them gestured invitingly at the stool with a smile on his lips, encouraging Josh to sit down. He didn’t recognize him, of course, but everyone who came to this pub was viewed as a friend of everyone else. Both because of the environment that they fostered as well as the plying effect of alcohol.

The bartender came over to ask Josh what he wanted. The walls were lined with hard liquor, with a few wine bottles scattered about. Six beers were on tap, with additional bottles stored under the bar itself. They didn’t lack for options. Just as they didn’t lack for food choices, although those tended more towards traditional Irish cuisine and pub snacks.

The song ended, and the next began with a far faster tempo. Near one end of the stage stood a young man in his early twenties; taller than everyone else on stage, his blue eyes twinkled as he matched the tempo on his accordion.

“Any takers?” The drummer asked the pub patrons. He was met with a laugh, as they recognized the tune and knew how difficult it was to keep up with it. “You all know the rule. If you do the full song, the next round’s on the house.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh recognized the tune, although to call his knowledge of the lyrics shaky would be generous.


He ordered a local beer, then waited to see who would step up to the tongue twisting task.

Nobody had come forward by the time the bartender handed him his drink. Instead the patrons swapped glances, or elbowed their neighbor.

Josh stood. "I'll give it a try." He volunteered. Although he was at times accused of a disconnect from reality in this case he was under no illusions as to how well he would do. He knew the lyrics in fragments, from half listening to recordings while studying or planning with other students.

But nobody else had come forward, and the worst that would (probably) happen is that the other patrons would all laugh at the American making a fool of himself.

He marched forward, offering the band a self deprecating grin.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The band was used to nobody taking the challenge, although they offered it every night. It made for a bit of a game, and gave them a few minutes of break between their singing duties (or rather, gave the singers a break; those who played instruments still had to keep the rhythm). Typically, what happened was that after a reasonable period of time, one of the band members would sing the song, so that they could properly move on.

Yet, just they were prepared to do that, one of the younger patrons stepped up. He had an American accent, and the accordion player inclined his head and offered him a smile, encouraging him to do his best. All of the band members took a couple of steps back to give him room to join them.

Around the pub, several of the other patrons applauded, and one whistled, happy to see that someone was going to make the attempt. Even though, honestly, nobody in the audience expected him to succeed. Particularly not when they heard him speak, and it became evident that he wasn’t Irish in the slightest.

He could do no worse than the severely drunk people who sang along at times, as long as he didn’t fall off the stage halfway through.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh made his way toward the band, inhaling deeply before beginning.

"There was Johnny McEldoo and McGee and me
And a couple or two or three went on a spree one time
We uhh something something money blew.
And the beer and whiskey flew and we all felt gay
We visited ahhh somebody and humpty and uhh"

And the tempo was now getting away from him along with the lyrics. He knew the next section was about eating, but he was already too far behind to think about what they might be. Instead he began to laugh.

He wanted to apologize for being unable to finish, but he couldn't stop laughing at how ridiculous he was to volunteer to sing a song he barely knew.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Some of the audience members laughed as well. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t finish the song, the fiddle player patted him on the arm with his bow hand. “It’s fine, Lad.” To the audience, he quipped, “Not bad for an American, was he?”

That earned a round of good-natured applause.

With that, the band started the tune anew, only this time, they began to sing the lyrics, as they had to move on, and someone had already failed the challenge for the night.

“Johnny McEldoo turned red, white and blue
As a plate of irish stew he soon put out of sight
He shouted out "Encore!" with a roar for some more
That he'd never felt before such a keen appetite…”

When they reached the end of the song, the band encouraged Josh to return to his seat. His two compatriots had saved it for him, as it would be rude to give away the seat of someone who had volunteered to sing. It undermined the sense of community, and, on crowded nights, discouraged audience participation otherwise.

The band went on to the next song in their catalog, this time not inviting volunteers, as it was a languid love ballad.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh buried his face in his drink as soon as he returned to his seat. Nobody seemed to really mind that he had completely butchered their traditional folk song, and he had known he wouldn't do very well, but he still felt he needed a drink after that abysmal performance.

The love song was nice, even if he couldn't really relate. He had no personal experience with romantic love; he wasn't sure if he would ever have personal experience with it. But love songs were still nice to listen to.

Soon he was drawn into conversation with his bar neighbors, and before he knew it much of the night had passed. It wasn't until the bar began to empty out that he realized just how late it was.

He stood (slightly wobbly from alcohol) and bade what new friends remained a goodnight.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The band finished its last song for the night, and the pub began to thin out a bit later. Several of the band members took their pay and a bottle of beer for the road. However, the accordion member remained. After placing his pay for the night in his wallet, he hung back, ordering a shot of whiskey before settling in to watch the American from across the floor. As a member of the band, he rated delivery by the bartender himself.

Then, when the American said goodnight, he followed him out, swooping in from the other side of the bar to stand beside him. “We don’t say it like that here.” His voice was deep, with a lyrical brogue. His blue eyes continued to twinkle with the same mirth as before, despite the long night and his somewhat sore fingers from hours of playing.

“I can teach ye how, if ye’d like, if you think you can remember it this time.” He accompanied that with a smile, to indicate that he didn’t mean any harsh critique for the young man’s earlier failure to sing the challenge song. Johnny Mceldoo eluded all but the most gifted in terms of memory and diction.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh hadn't expected any of the band members to approach him, certainly not to comment on his performance. He pressed one hand to his forehead with a wry smile, shaking his head.

"I'm sure I won't remember it." He confessed apologetically. "It's a little faster than I'm used to singing. But I'm willing to try. Maybe a week from now I'll get through another verse."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The smile remained on the accordion player’s face, and he quickly said, “This one’s a little easier to remember.” It was a completely different song, after all, and after the American’s performance with the last one, he knew better than to try another tongue twister.

Well, there was a reason that the pub allowed them to offer that as a challenge every night they played. And there was a reason that it never cut into their earnings on any given night.

Most songs were easier to remember and far easier to articulate.

With that, he cleared his throat (whiskey was not the smoothest lubricant for singing) and then began, “Of all the money that ere I had, I spent it in good company.
And of all the harm that ere I’ve done, alas was done to none but me.
And all I’ve done for want of wit, to memory know I can’t recall.
So fill to me the parting glass. Goodnight and joy be to you all.”

Baritone rather than tenor, as some of his bandmates were, but clear, lyrical, and spot on nonetheless.

Holding up the remainder of his whiskey in the younger man’s direction, he encouraged, “Now ye give it a try."

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh squinted in concentration as the other man sang, paying close attention to the words -- when he had first arrived in Ireland he had found anyone with an accent as thick as this one nearly impossible to understand, but he was gradually becoming accustomed enough to comprehend most of what was being said to him.

When the band member prompted him he began singing, much less surely and much more slowly, “Of all the money that I had, I've spent it in good company.
And of all the", he hit the wrong note, cringed, and began again, "And of all the harm that ere I’ve done, alas was done to" he paused as he tried to recall the words and ended, "only me
And all I’ve done for want of wit," Another pause, "I can't rem---recall"
So fill me up the parting glass. Goodnight and joy be to you all.”

He was no musician, that was for sure.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Obviously, the American would never become a professional singer, and as the accordion player had no reason to think that he played an instrument, he could assume that the American would never join a band in any capacity.

Not that there was anything wrong with that. There were many paths to take in one’s life, and even he did not do this for a career. Merely to give himself some spending money and to help him pass the time and meet new people. Besides, he liked his bandmates quite a bit.

“Not bad, lad,” he told the younger man, before nudging him gently with his shoulder to indicate the door. “Now we bow, and that’s how ye say goodnight around here.”

To that end, he bowed theatrically and then stepped over the threshold, taking the American in tow.

Once outside in the cool, night air, he took a longer moment to study the younger man. He was obviously drunk, and he could probably use a hand getting back to wherever he lived. To that end, he cocked his head slightly, listening keenly, before he asked, “Yer at the University of Dublin, are ye?” He phrased it as a question only for the sake of politeness; he already knew the answer.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh attempted a bow, nearly toppling over, then followed the accordion player out of the bar. He didn't find it unusual that the other man would know where he was staying -- how many other place would Americans in his age range stay at? It was certainly a good guess, even had it been wrong.

He nodded, "I...yeeeah I am. D'you live close?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The accordion player had grabbed the American to keep him vertical, if not actually steady on his feet. He’d kept his eye on him throughout the evening, and apparently he didn’t know how to hold his liquor. A pity.

Already, he had decided to walk the younger man back to campus, possibly over his objection depending on what his baseline personality was and how much it changed when drunk. So far, he seemed only friendly, which made it easy enough to talk his way where he wanted to be. He found that easy with less friendly and more sober people, and the American should be easier than that.

“Somewhat,” he replied, although that was a lie. He didn’t live near the University at all. However, that would not prevent him from walking the American back to his dorm, and he would insist on it. “The campus is on the way.”

That was technically true given how far he was from where he lived. Not that the distance mattered to him. He traveled farther than this on a regular basis. Besides, he had nothing else to occupy himself this evening, with the set finished and the pub closing down. He might as well take a walk and make a new friend.