It was my sister who planned to go to Ireland. We tagged along.
My sister has always been a Lana Del Rey fan. After seeing her dreamy and cineamtic Coachella performance, she knew she had to buy tickets to her next tour. When Lana announced that she was going on her Euro Summer Tour, my sister knew she had to be there.
My sister doesn’t just attend concerts- she curates a setting for them. For her, the city has to match the sound. For example, we went to the Mumford & Sons concert with Special Guest Lainey Wilson in Nashville to enhance the experience. It just made sense to explore the city the artists feels connected to. This concert wasn’t a performance you put off, especially if the tour is in an iconic destination.
She didn’t know who she was going with. She just knew she was going.
That’s always been her way: decide first, sort it out later. London was the practical addition — the city with direct flights and predictable routes. But Ireland was the real destination. The emotional one.
Our dad had traveled there years ago and returned with stories that sounded softer than usual. He talked about how friendly everyone was, how music felt woven into daily life, how concert crowds sang like they meant it. He described it in a way that made it feel less like a foreign country and more like somewhere adjacent to home.
Roughly one in ten Americans claim Irish ancestry. We’re among them. It’s never been something I’ve announced — just a quiet fact that sits in the background of our family history. Still, when Ireland entered the group chat, I felt a pull I couldn’t quite name.
My brother was drawn to the road trip — the idea of renting a car and driving narrow countryside roads on the right “correct” side. I was drawn to the idea of standing somewhere that felt faintly familiar before I’d ever seen it.
So the trip assembled itself out of three separate motivations:
My sister chasing a song by Lana Del Rey.
My brother chasing open roads.
And me, chasing something inherited.
Looking back, I think that’s what made it special. It wasn’t just about a stadium concert in Dublin. It was about the strange, fleeting window of adulthood where siblings choose each other, because we want to share an experience.