Last evening with a late arrival - the Irish are very spontaneous by nature - I took my room key, pushed onto the elevator and headed for the third floor of the small hotel.
I saw only buttons for 2 floors. I gave it a try , ended on the second floor, and turned around going back down to the lobby. Maybe I hadn’t understood the receptionist and my room was in another part of the building.
When I explained my plight to her she looked at me with a blank face and said, “ You get off on the second floor, walk all the way down the corridor and take the stairs to the third floor.”
Like giving directions to someone on the the highway - “ turn right at the pub on the corner” or “ just past St. Bridget’s a short way around the bend” - the Irish don’t excell in giving specific information. I guess they assume it’s not worth worrying about. What’s the hurry.
I repeated my actions, got off at the second floor, walked all the way down the hallway. Tucked away in the far corner was a narrow stairs to the third floor with three rooms. Well, I must say the view was worth it.