When Irish doors are smiling

The BBQ Pit
1

So I’ve just gotten back from a few months working in Cork, which was wonderful in general, except for three things:

  1. I had no telephone.
  2. I had spotty net access in general, and no SDMB in particular.
  3. I do not understand Irish doors.

I’m not going to complain about the first thing, because y’all haven’t the time.

I’m not going to complain about the second thing, because I want to at least be able to pretend to have a life.

I am going to complain about the third thing, because I like complaining.

For some background, I was working in a fairly modern microelectronics reserach center. This is a bit odd, as I know nothing about microelectronics, but there you have it. When God made Ireland, he blessed it with beautiful landscape, charming people, and a hefty dose of quirkiness.

Part of that quirkiness is in the doors. For instance, at the place I was working, the external doors only open if you swipe the blasted security card. This is sort of odd, since there isn’t anything particularly sensitive there, as far as I know, but they tell me it’s because they want to know who’s in the building in case of an emergency. Yeah, right.

Okay, so one needs the security card to get in or out. Fine, I suppose, except that the card swipe is in a different place relative to each door. Left, or right, or high, or low. Sometimes, it’s the doors that lead to the external doors that require a card-swipe to open. No doubt it’s intentional, so that the natives can confuse the poor visitors and have a jolly good laugh down at the pub.

Doors there all have doorknobs, but they don’t actually use them. That would be too convenient. Instead, they have little trick catches, hidden in various places, which one twists or pulls or bows to thrice while reciting Psalm 23 in Estonian before they relent and let you leave. Often, it’s some combination of the above.

My flat was the same way, only less complicated. It had a whacking great doorknob which didn’t actually turn. Instead, you had a little round knob the size of a quarter, which you grabbed, turned, and then grabbed the big doorknob with your other hand and pulled. To get out of the bedroom, you had a similar set up, only the little round knob wasn’t round.

Ireland is a wonderful charming country, but Corkonians, at least, have much to learn about doors.

2

Hey I resemble that thread title. See? :slight_smile:

3

The doors in Cork are designed (by Dubliners) to keep them in a constant state of confusion, and limit their spread into the rest of the country (or more specifically Dublin).

FTR, we don’t do “jolly good”.

4

Feh. Cork.

5

I was gonna say that the thread title sounded a bit familiar.

Robin

6

Actually, and I’ll probably get strung up by my own intestines for saying this, but… I enjoyed Cork rather more than Dublin. Probably this is because I’m not really a huge city person, although I make exceptions for London and Rome.

None of which changes the apparent facts that Cork was laid out by a drunken goat-herder who delighted in making incomprehensible doors and (at least as far as Beamish goes) middling stout.

Oh, and RE: jolly good. I actually never heard any of the Irish I met in Cork use it, admittedly, or anything else I associate with Wodehouse, but… well, I find it amusing, in a vaguely adolescent sort of way, so I figured I’d use it anyway.

7

Hey Im Irish, in Ireland (tho not in Cork) and I had trouble with the damn doors today. Had to get someone else in work to open the door for me, only cos Im blind though and didnt see the new security panel code. The security code panel with the security code stuck on top of it! Stupid Stupid company.
Hey anyway, why was your Internet so crap?

8

Did the Irish do this to foil British police?

9

You preferred Cork to Dublin? well, to each their own, but Cork? Feh.

10

Another Dubliners view.

Cork? Feh.

:wink:

11

Well, now, you see, it’s sort of the way, that is, when you need to, ah, I see it’s gotten late. Let’s go to the pub and talk about it in gentler surroundings.

12

I live in Dublin, and I reckon Cork is nicer than Dublin.

The accent would drive you half mad, they don’t do Guinness properly, and the weather sucks, but the city’s a lot nicer.

And yes thank you, Dubs, I know where busáras is. It’s that hideous building on the nort soyud.

13

ell, since I didn’t have a phone, no internet from home, which is always a nuisance. We’re not going into why I didn’t have a phone, mind you, largely because it’s sort of unclear to me why it would be so difficult to get a phoneline in a guesthouse.

This would have been fine, since I was all of about 3 minutes’ walk from my office and could use the computers there, but they were rather keen on their nice fancy government computers only being used for certain very specific things. It felt like most things not obviously of scientific use were blocked. Also, Big Brother was watching me… :eek:

That just left internet cafes, and I figured that given the choice between spending my spare change and spare time on the internet or spending it at the pub, I’d go for door #2.

And that’s why I had spotty net access.

14

Feh, Cork…

Hi Jack! - mrsIteki calls Busárus brontesaurus… I love her but she’s mental…

15

That’s funny, ever since I first visited Dublin I’ve always referred to it as “Busasaurus - the bus-shaped, people carrying dinosaur”.

gttttttttttttttt <= result of unsuccessful cat/keyboard synthesis.

16

:slight_smile: pity she isn’t coming to Dublin with me this time, I think you two would get on, that was her logic too!

17

I prefer Galway. Salt Hill too. My cousin’s house in Salt Hill has a giant door knob in the middle of the door, and opens in. So this silly yank would go in, after the pub, and pull hard and to the right to open the damn door. My cousin thought it very amusing. I enjoyed saying “what a big knob” to him, but he lost the american humor.

18

What, an Irishman didn’t giggle when he heard “what a big knob”? Have him ‘reeducated’ I say.