TEN YEARS OLD? Sure we remember when it was just a wee light rail system.
Dublin’s lovely Luas is 10 years old today, and already a beloved institution in the city.
From its joyous CLANG CLANG to the rush hour crush to the temperamental ticket machines -there’s so much to love about the Luas.
Hearing the CLANG CLANG and legging it
The Dublin-wide signal for OH JESUS I NEED TO GET OFF THE ROAD. We should probably wait for the train to leave before we go dashing across the road, shouldn’t we.
The anger you feel at someone calling it ‘the Daniel Day’
The only people who call it that are the people who haven’t got a clue.
The mass exodus at Heuston
And the space, the glorious space, that’s freed up when the train-goers haul off their (usually enormous) bags.
Trying to stay upright when it takes a corner
There aren’t many of them, but they sneak up on you.
The forced intimacy of rush hour
People can get close on the Luas. Real close. Too close, some might say.
Hammering at the ticket machine
Look, it’s fine, you’ve used the Luas ticket machine HUNDREDS of times and you know exactly what you’re doing. It just. Won’t. Work.
Watching other people hammer at the ticket machine
Heh, those losers don’t know anything. Probably up for the day. *hammers own ticket machine*
Admiring the work of the city’s graffiti artists
The Luas is practically a moving art gallery, if street art is your thing.
Mimicking the announcer
Ranelagh. Raghnallach.
Smithfield. Margadh na Feirme.
Jervis. Jervis.
(Bonus fact: The Luas announcer is a former Eurovision presenter.)
Eavesdropping like your life depended on it
The conversations you hear on the Luas are unlike any conversations you hear anywhere else, and there’s always something good to tune in to.
Wondering what it’d be like to drive the thing yourself
Grand, we say. Easy, we say. Though Luas drivers would probably (and rightly) beg to differ. BUT JUST LOOK AT ALL THOSE BUTTONS.
