why its just like the hills
I had a strange night in the suburbs at stepaside. I made the mistake of believing my old colleagues who said it was near the luas. I got directions over the phone from somebody from a romania who punctuated every sentence with the word “right”. I naturally got lost a few times. The place was dull and seemed to be populated by young families and dudes in pimped out bmws.
After an hour of Jay Z on MTV I knew this night had gone down the shitter, it was only a matter of how far down we would be at the end. I was glad I had only brought two beers. I even considered pouring half of my second one down the sink and going somewhere else. We watched some youtube and ate some pizza and decided to call it quits and to try to find the luas again.
At night the place looked much different. The apartment blocks that I saw being assembled from the back of a truck a few years ago actually looked nice a few hours later. In the daytime you notice an open face mine and some tv aerials in the background. You can also see how the exposed timber that is not yet 5 years old is starting to rot.
They way home was even less fun. The wait between trains was 17 minutes. We spotted some young guys on the platform and Nick said “they will be providing tonight’s entertainment”, and how right he was. The alpha knacker in the soiled tracksuit looked like he had sat on mud. He threw a bottle onto the street but it failed to break and just bounced along, he was probably disappointed by that showing. He was on the train and his antics just grew. He tried to take his friends jacket off and throw it out the door at the next stop. After that I heard him say “my brother was too afraid to smoke on the luas”. He put a rolled cigarette up to his lips and said “but I am not my brother” and he lit it. When nobody reacted in any way to what he had done he got up and opened the window. When we stopped at the next station he was looking around to make sure he was not going to be caught. He had his back to us and I started saying “they are here, they are here”.
I wished out loud that the security would get on the train and catch him. Once this round had ended without him showing something good he decided to up the ante and whip out his (presumably small) penis and urninate on the wall of the train. I said “I am calling the cops, get off the train”. He legged it to the front of the train and one of his mates too. His other friend stayed and said “he is only drunk”. I said “get off the train” and he left too. Then we stopped at dundrum and the security stepped on the train and I pointed at the piss and told them to look for a guy in a tracksuit at the end of the train. As they walked along the carriages he walked out the door. As he was going by us I said “that’s right you little fucking asshole” and he scurried up the stairs with his tail between his legs.
The security did not want to let the train move because it had been soiled. I was going to be to blame and I said to the people around me “sorry, I cant let that happen in front of me”. I asked the security if the train could move and he said “yes if you are ok with the smell”. I said “he hadn’t done much” to the sound of some laughter from others. I said “if this was london or new york someone would take a shit on the train and it would keep going”.
Some guys from the country behind us started telling a story about a friend of theirs who once took a shit on a bus.
The train pulled out of the station minus one pissy pantsy knacker. My twi slight regrets are that I didn’t call him ‘bitch’ like Jessie Pinkman. The other was that I didn’t push him in the back as he was pissing. This would have given him something extra to remember the night by. In all honesty though, I would be too worried in case even a drop got anywhere near me.
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