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Full Version: Route 220, Dublin Bus. Wednesday.
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It seems like it goes everywhere. But it also goes nowhere.

Get on in Finglas Village. Drive for 30 minutes. Look out the window at the desolation beyond.
Still in Finglas. But it's more than that. It's the Bleakness of it.
That Grey Dunne's Stores that's half shuttered at 18:30 in the evening.
The backarse of Ballycoolin, and another interminable age of industrial estates.
A road that might've last been resurfaced when De Valera was Taoiseach leading down to Connolly Hospital.
Taking every wrong turn possible trying to get to the Blanchardstown Centre.
Time crawls. The engine threatens to shake itself apart everytime the bus stops.
A gentleman's watching a video on gun laws and firearms made prior to 1898.
3 teenage girls are talking about their JLO's. Not Jennifer Lopez.
You finally get off after watching the continents drift beneath the wheels of the bus and look at your watch.
It's been less than an hour since you got on the poxy thing. Entire geological ages have passed in your soul.
For context A map of this bus route It doubles back on itself enough times that therere times when it might be faster to get off and walk - then meet it again five stops down the road.

Then you realise why you're a bloody idiot as you wait for it to come back.
I've been on a few mind-numbing bus rides in my time, but never anything quite that bad.
I can only hope the ride from Boston to Buzzard's Bay isn't that bad.