Before I left for Italy last July, I wrote a list of things I’d miss about Dublin and Ireland. I can’t look at it now; it’ll make me too sad, reignite my technicolor fantasies of chucking everything and staying right here in my little bedsit, drinking Barry’s tea and dreaming of swans. Instead, I try to cheer myself up; try to think of things I won’t miss about Dublin. I rack my brains. I rack my brains. I rack my brains. It’s no use. All I can think of is the things I love about this place.
But then I put on the big girl pants and I think of a few. I betray the beautiful things. I take one for the team.
Things I won’t miss about Dublin and Ireland:
John and Edward. The tone deaf jerkoffs from last year’s X Factor. Have they gone on to prove all the naysayers wrong and earn vast musical acclaim? Of course not – why would they? Besides, they’re far too busy being featured in ad campaigns. Of all the monkeys who auditioned last year, why did they have to fetishize the Dubliners? Thanks, Louie Walsh. At least now we know which side your brown bread is buttered on.
Prices. Big city tickets, in Euro to boot. Won’t be missing those, I can tell you that much.
Double decker Dublin buses. Sure, they’re charming and all that. What could be cuter? Not breaking your neck as you try to get up and downstairs, that’s what. The bus drivers start driving as soon as they snap the doors shut – woe to whoever is caught in the stairwell.
6:30pm dinners. Are they crazy? Is everyone in Ireland 80? Madness.
11:30pm pub closing. Pubs usually close around 11:30 on weeknights and around 1am on weekends. Something about trying to curb alcoholism, blah blah blah. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, Ireland, but IT’S NOT WORKING.
Vomit on the streets. See above.
Empty ethnic restaurants. Nothing’s more depressing than trundling down to the Thai joint round the corner and finding the entire place empty and dark because, for some reason, the Irish aren’t having it. Indian restaurants? At best, quarter-full caves. Chinese food? Just for take out, it seems. Japanese and Italian? Yeah, they’re all right, but anything else that isn’t a burger joint, pub, or cafe? Avoid it like the plague. Eat a potato instead.
The “walk” buttons on the crosswalk. They say, “How can you tell who’s not from Dublin? The one who presses the ‘walk’ button and actually expects it to work.” Waste of space. Waste of time. Why are they there? What’s the significance? I DON’T KNOW!
And then… uh, what else? Um. Big city crime? Big city dirt? Knackers on the DART? Halp, I’m tapped out. Someone, quick – tell me something lousy about Dublin before I start thinking about that moment when the 15A bus bumps over the Grand Canal and you can see clear up Camden Street. Pastel buildings and brick chimneys arching towards City Centre.