Cultural Journal 13 - To The Bus!

Riding the bus as a primary form of transport is not something I have done extensively. Growing up I never lived far enough from school to get bussed, and public transport in the suburbs has always been, while existent, far from convenient. I was pleased with how reliable and pleasant our regular bus journeys were, but we did have some interesting experiences riding them.
A particularly memorable one was a day I’m sure several have written about. We got on the bus at Kilmainham to head back to city center, and sat near a small group of people talking very loudly with gruff accents. A block or two into the ride, one of them leaned over and, slurring slightly, asked Keith if he would give a sip from his water bottle to her companion, who was pregnant. An odd request, but Keith (wisely) simply handed over the bottle and said she could have the rest of it. They expressed gratitude, and went back to talking. A few moments later, the smell of smoke reached us, tinged with a sweetness that I couldn’t place at first. In discussing it later, Keith suggested that it was probably meth, and after consulting some friends from downstate I think he may have been right. It was odd to think about drug problems in other countries, especially meth which I associate with smaller, more remote communities in Illinois (though it has made its way into the Chicago area). The stereotype of Irish addiction is the alcoholic, but I had somehow forgotten the fact that despite its openness and friendliness, Dublin is still a true city and has all the problems that come along with that.
Another, less intrusive experience I had was riding on a bus with a gaggle of young teenage girls at the back. Their conversation was boisterous, and ranged from singing to argument. Then two of them began to get into an argument (friendly, but an argument nevertheless) and one of the two began swearing rather freely. Her friends kept shushing her, she refused to listen; when they told her that everyone could hear her, she replied that everyone could hear them, and kept right at it. Some of my fellow passengers looked put out by this, but I actually enjoyed it. It reinforced the similarities between cultures for me – I remember talking just like that when I was around that age, with all the same arguments and laughing that went with it. It was nice to find a commonality with a segment of the population I hadn’t had much exposure to, apart from the horde of youngsters wandering DCU in their pajamas and what I can only describe as costumes. I’m still not sure what was going on there.