As I was skipping school a lot and failing some classes to boot, my Irish mother decided that the best way to arrest my downward momentum would be to send me abroad. They picked a little Protestant school my cousin was attending in the Republic of Ireland.
One morning I was so hung-over that I blithely informed the judge of it in the hallway while he was heading to the courtroom. He actually seemed pleased. “Really? Great, we’ll make sure to get through everything today as fast as we can.” I was only slightly surprised.
He often regaled my friends with stories about his favorite prostitutes from his old neighborhood. One day he asked me how many I had visited in my life. I shook my head, grinning, “None, I wouldn’t do that!” He looked baffled. “Why not? How will you learn?”