Taking the Bus in Ireland

So our little walking vacation didn't exactly work out. We should have known that the whole trip was cursed when we got on the bus, because it didn't exactly go well. Take these three interactions:

1. At the airport, one has to get on a shuttle bus which goes to the Central Bus Terminal in Cork. I knew to buy a period return ticket (period return allows you to come back anytime within a month), because it would be cheaper. I knew to buy my ticket to Killarney period return because that would be cheaper, too. The tour people said to buy the Killarney ticket on the bus. So after I got the return shuttle tickets, I asked "Can I buy two return tickets to Killarney?"

Whoops! The bus driver exploded. He started yelling "It's too late now! You should have said! I already printed the ticket! It's too late now! You might have saved 6 euros, but not now! Just go sit down!!" etc. Full bus, screaming bus driver, totally embarassed tourist. And a charming welcome. A hundred thousand welcomes, indeed.

2. At the CBT, I got in line to buy our Killarney tickets. A girl came up and said that her bus was about to leave and she had the wrong ticket. She wanted to jump the queue. We all said fine, so she went up to the bulletproof window (in the bus station!! Bulletproof!).

She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the girl behind the glass snarled "You asked for a ticket to X." "But I need to get to Y." "But you asked for a ticket to X!" back and forth this went for three iterations.

It was completely obvious - totally, utterly obvious, that the ticket girl knew when she sold the original ticket it was wrong. She did it anyway, and was now rubbing in the customer's ignorance on purpose.

Finally, the customer-girl said, "Can you do anything to help me?" and the ticket-girl said, "Yes, for 60p." So for 60 cents, she handed the customer the correct ticket and that woman ran off to try to chase down her departing bus. A thousand welcomes.

3. The same girl sold me two tickets to Killarney. I turned away, consulted the electronic board, and realized that there was no bus to Killarney. Also, the departure time showed four different buses. Who knows where they all went? So I went back to the window.

Miss Charming cocked her hip, turned her eyes disdainfully toward me and sneered. "What?" I asked which bus was the one to Killarney. "Tralee." Because that was obvious. It wasn't on the ticket. It wasn't on the schedule. Oh, wait - there were no schedules in the little display case. It was empty.

Then I paid 20p to use the filthy bathroom and we got on the bus.

See how things didn't exactly get off to a thrilling start?

I don't think we really started to warm up to Ireland until we checked into the Malton, a truly beautiful hotel in Killarney where the staff (that's right - Eastern Europeans to the last one. I had to spell my name. My Irish name. But hey - they were nice!) made us welcome. Finally.