72 Hours in Dublin: Drink, Cry, Repeat

Later on, I make more friends at—you guessed it—an Irish bar.





I tell the girls I work at Maxim, and they suggest flashing the camera. Good idea! But they settle on this pose instead:

Works for me.

It's getting late, and I have a flight to miss in the morning, so it's time to say farewell to Dublin. But not before this happens:
 

 

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