« The Vigilante Group Meeting | Main | A COLUMN: In which Liam is early, late and moved »

June 05, 2005

MAY DAY! MAY DAY!

Saturday 1st May 2004 - MAY DAY

May 1st, much like September 23rd (my birthday) is a day that should be celebrated across Europe. Neigh - the world. 10 new countries joined the EU. Millions of people will slowly but surely reap the benefits that have assisted our own novel country. Ireland was the venue. Dublin, the Bridget Bardot of cities, was the star. Scarf wearing, whiskey drinkers like me took our seats in the front row. The show was just about to begin when, uninvited, in walks Anarchy. How the bloody Hell did he get in? Thus, my friends, MAY DAY begun.

Like most people, I succumbed to the media prophesies of the very likelihood of riots in Dublin on May 1st. Unlike most people, instead of refusing to set foot anywhere near the capital, I ambled on down to an eerily empty Newbridge Train Station with a ticket straight to Hell. I was going to get into the thick of it. Report from behind enemy lines. This was going to be the Big One. Hurray For Capitalism: A First Hand Report Of How May Day Protestors Got What They Had Coming, by Liam Geraghty.

The journey aboard the Arrow was a solemn one, until the mobile starting jiving. “Hello?” It was my good friend Anthony complaining about how he couldn’t afford a train ticket as he had drunk his millions away the previous weekend. “Ah yes. I know the feeling, Anthony. I’m currently wading through some sever debt myself,” I said sadly. Anthony sighed. “I have absolutely no sympathy for you,” he said. “It’s entirely your own fault, Liam. You’re always buying…” At this point Anthony took a brief second to think of what I did waste my money on and, since he couldn’t really pinpoint any exact vice, he continued without thinking. “You’re always buying Glass Monkeys and flashy cameras and crap.” Sigh. If only I could afford a Glass Monkey.

On arrival in Hueston Station everything was working as usual. (Except the trains! Har, Har.) It was only when I boarded the number 90 into town that things started to look different. From my seat on the top of the bus, I could spot an irregular amount of Gardaí nearby to Hueston. I tried to take a photo on the sly of them, without the rest of the bus passengers knowing. A quick SNAP and it was done. That one’s headed for Reuters. Further along the quays, it began to become more and more apparent that trouble was expected as groups of Guards hung around each and every street corner. Above O’Connell Bridge a police helicopter was hovering menacingly in the blue sky. This is fantastic, I thought. When all Hell breaks loose I’ll be on the scene to cover it LIVE. Now all I have to do is find some Anti-Capitalism Nuts and ‘provoke’ them shall we say by means of some heated debate. This in mind, I headed over to Merrion Square where the EU festivities were in full swing. Tents representing each new country member were full of food, facts and wine. Native dances and songs were showcased on stages dotted around the Square, and peoples from every nation were laughing together in merry spirits. All was well. Not a fight in sight! Word quickly came through to me that the protestors I was seeking, had gathered just inside the gates to St. Stephen’s Green. Off I went. When I got there though I was somewhat disheartened by a rather timid looking bunch of hippies/Earth Dwellers/Wombles? They were all sitting down on the green. Singing songs and then to my horror – dancing! Outrageous. And not in the American meaning of the word.

I travelled all this way for nothing. Spirits were high, riots were low. In the voyage back to Heuston Station there was an air of defeatism aboard the 90 bus. But just as I had ruled out any chance of looting a new DVD player, I spotted a feck load of Gardaí down at the bridge beside Hueston. Rejoice! They obviously had gathered there in an effort to thwart any attempt the protestors might make to visit Farmleigh. Not only that, but it seemed like a mini-concert was in session outside Heuston itself, where the Luas tracks were. Upon closer inspection, it seemed all the acid junkie, college flunky folk had gathered to sing protests and the like. The lead singer remarked, “Now isn’t this form of protesting far better than violence?” A tumbleweed bounced by as not one single protestor answered. Fearing for his protestor status, he hastily quipped “Well what’ do I know anyway?” After around an hour of peace songs I was verging on the suicidal. Hippies were conversing happily with the Gardaí. Had I somehow stumbled into a Hellish twilight zone where everybody gets along!? Apparently so.

My plans utterly defeated, I walked soberly to the entrance to Hueston only to discover it was all locked up. The only way I could get in was through the side entrance and at that I had to show my ticket to a tight security operation. Inside all the shops were closed. Obviously Iarnród Éireann was expecting riots too. After the quaint Arrow journey back to Newbridge, I returned to my humble abode and switched on the TV only to see angry protestors, fleets of Gardai and two God Damn water canons! CURSE IT!

Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist (page 6)

Posted by LiamG at June 5, 2005 09:09 PM