Tag Archives: Drugs

The Daily Rant: On Weekends.

Aren’t Weekends great? Don’t you wish you could take Weekends out for dinner, ply them full of wine and then take them home and have your wicked way with them? Weekends are so cool and full of awesome that if an election was held today to find the Supreme Ruler of the Known Universe, Weekends would win by a landslide.

Weekends are when you let your hair and treat yourself to whatever (or whoever) it is that floats your boat. But think about this, people: in order for you to enjoy your weekend, there are those who earn their living so you can trip the light fantastic. So, at the risk of sounding like a party pooper, please respect hard-working bartenders, waiting staff, cinema workers and the bloke who sources your drugs. Without them, your Weekends just wouldn’t be the same.

I’m off to work now. Don’t get too drunk, you hear me?

People Are Strange

The taxi drivers staged a protest today. I think it was their fourth one this year. I remember a time when you couldn’t get a taxi on a weekend night, there were that few of them. I met a girlfriend – and broke up with one – on a taxi rank, I was there that fucking long.

Anyway, the cabbies are complaining that there’s too many of them now. A few years back some suit deregulated the business, unclosing the “closed shop,” and opening the market out to anyone who had a few bob to spend on a licence. More than a few goons thought taxi driving was a licence to print money. It was then; it isn’t now.

Because of their bi-weekly protest, Dublin’s main street, O’Connell Street, was closed to traffic for the day, even for the emergency services. Gardai-directed diversions were in operation. This meant that the bus route home from my Tuesday night meeting was changed and I had to go search for where I could catch the right one. So I stood at the corner of Marlborough and Eden Quay. Big mistake.

I saw this young man, dressed in a striped hoodie, skinny jeans and trainers, jogging toward me. He didn’t look threatening. He’s a jogger, I thought.

He stopped in front of me and asked, “Have you any gear?”

“What?” I said.

“Have you any gear?”

“No,” I said. And away he jogged. I shook my head and continued to look for my bus.

My next visitor was altogether different. He was stick-thin, dark-haired, but he had danger in his eyes. His girlfriend was no better. He stared at me.

“Git,” he said. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

Like I said, this guy looked menacing. I gave him full eye contact and said softly, “I’m sorry but you’re talking to the wrong person.” He considered this for a moment and then the pair of them walked off. He turned his head, just to make sure he wasn’t making a mistake.

I lit a cigarette and mumbled, “Come on, do I even look like a drug dealer?”

I would have taken a taxi home – if there were any – but I decided to walk. There was no way I wanted to hang around that corner any longer.

Take it away, Jim…