Sitting on a bus parallel to streams of traffic wedged together the perpetual Friday gridlock that is Dublin city. Faces staring out ghostlike, translucent through windows. The train never waits, every second counts and every cunt is in your way. It’s becoming more and more obvious that the state were never really serious about providing public transport through the Luas at least not at a mass level, that becomes even more depressingly obvious considering the privatisation of the service. Queuing for a Luas is a very alienating affair, with a stream of about thirty people behind you and twelve in front the mechanical voice of some failed English actor garbles again and again ‘Thank you, your ticket is printing, please wait for your change…’ Then you’re in front of it, fumbling with more and more change as it randomly spits back every twenty cent you have. Then the Luas arrives and the cunts are pressed against you. Inches from the face of some biddy from the country, you can smell her foundation as some other auld biddy elbows you in the side of the head and trips you up with her bags of shopping. Desperate to get out of the a city they’ve been paranoid in since they arrived, mind warped with tabloid headlines about chills junkies waiting to In unspoken looks, every one stares sympathetically at each other as tensions build and every one on the Heuston Station bound anxiously eyes up their watch in the realisation that their train is pulling out with seconds to spare. So on to Super Macs and chicken fat, an internet portal in a wall and an hour staring at walls waiting for a later train. Thank God its Friday My Fucking Arse.

Labels: Dublin, Rant, Society, Travel