I awoke with with intentions of cycling back to Dublin from Tullamore, but a quick look outside…read moreindicated that it was raining. Much as I enjoy cycling, I wasn't keen on going 150 kilometres in the rain, so we decided to get the train home.
I rang my oul lad to find out the times, and fortuitously enough, there was one scheduled to leave in half an hour. He also warned me, though, that there was only room on each train for two bicycles, and we had three, but I figured that we'd head down to the station and sort something out.
We got to the station (a 2 min cycle from the centre of town) and made some inquiries at the ticket window. I'm not exaggerating when I say that the lady behind the counter is the most surly and sour-faced oul bitch that I should ever hope to meet. With an expression on her face like a bulldog licking piss from a nettle, she begrudgingly informed us that there was only two bicycles allowed per train. Was there not anything we could do, like disassemble one of the bikes or something? She just shrugged and took another swig from her vinegar bottle (she didn't really).
At this point, another man came into the station and approached the counter, so we moved over to let him get to the window and to further discuss our options. He had what looked like an ID or swipecard in his hand, and he asked the woman if he possibly leave it in for someone. She made no verbal reply; she kind of shrugged and reluctantly accepted the item from the man, as if she had been offered a turd wrapped in cellophane. A lady who clearly detests members of the public should perhaps not be working in a customer relations capacity.
We decided to buy tickets and hope for the best; when we went to the counter the lady repeated her refrain of two bikes per train.
Yeah, we heard you the first ten times you old hag, give us the fucking tickets (which of course we didn't say to her face, but it was very tempting).
The tickets were actually very reasonable. There was some promotion on, meaning that instead of being €26, the tickets were only a tenner, and it was only an extra €4 per bike.
Out on the platform, we vented a little spleen about the harlot inside, and tried to figure out who would stay behind or what arrangements we'd make, when the conductor (I guess that what he is; yer man on the platform with the green flag) approached us.
Three bikes, is it, he asked.
Yes, we replied.
Well I can't promise anything, but sure we'll do our best to get yiz on, alright?
This spot-on chap is what turned a one-star review into a three star review. When the train came along he got all the bikes on with very little fuss. The sour-faced oul bitch on the counter should take a few pointers from her colleague's helpful approach.
Tullamore Station: best to have your tickets bought in advance so you don't have to talk to that striapach in at the window, but be sure to doff your cap to the sound conductor.
