Yesterday, the three of us {happily} left our hostel in Dublin for a quaint fishing village just north of Dublin known as Skerries. Standing on the platform with a group of locals holding two full suitcases & a carryon made for quite the scene. I struggled to "mind the gap" boarding the train and thankfully, a nun quickly helped me lift my final bag before the doors closed. 30 minutes later the DART dropped us into rolling hills & roaming sheep.
When we got off, there were two cars in the parking lot and no taxis in sight. Three girls, an empty platform, and an array of luggage- it was a scene straight from Leap Year. After reaching two dead numbers the train attendant said he knew of no more cabs and that there was nothing more he could do for us. Claire requested the phone, calling the B&B owners who quickly sent a cab that {RACED} over to get us.
The taxi driver was quite surprised to find us {and all the luggage} but made a joke of it and we piled {with suitcases on our laps} into his Mercedes sedan. In a thick accent he quickly told us Dublin was "a shithole" and about how he'd been living in the town for 50 years and is still referred to as a "blown in".
