It’s 9:45 on a Friday in early May in Ciss Maddens Drury St. It’s 24 degrees outside and 30 degrees inside behind your service station. You’re locked into a 10 hour shift which about three months ago was a cakewalk but now has you yelling out requests to bar backs like they’re military personnel. “86 on Hollows” you yell as you throw another Aperol spritz into a non-reusable plastic cup – you ran out of wine glasses an hour into the open and haven’t seen any since about 2pm. Your bar is capped at 130 people, but this doesn’t matter when right outside is one of the largest open spaces in the city with a maximum capacity of about 4000. Headspace for 10 people to the bar, with 10 across the front and 4 back; at any one moment you’re staring at 80 people waiting for drinks. “Solid,”  you think as you get word that The Pav reached maximum capacity twenty minutes ago, which means you’re about to get another wave back in towards you. Recently, it seems Trinity students enjoy two spots for boozing: The Pav or Drury St. It could always be worse, at least I’m not bartending in The Pav anymore. That would be worse, right? Right? 

Making your way up to the cocktail bar on the second floor you take one peek out the window in order to gauge the situation. The street is no longer visible – all you can see is an ocean of colour and beautiful people. A busking band who just got a late night licence is playing a cover of Laura Branigan’s Gloria in the cross between Castle Market and Drury St, dragging listeners from the equally as mobbed and flooded Grogans. If you didn’t know any better you could be in Croatia, Spain or Portugal, perhaps I’ll even level and say the odd festival in Ireland that allows street drinking. This, however, is a regular Friday. Purple ambient lighting overhead with beautiful Georgian architecture on either side backdropped by the grass green gate of Georges St Arcade make this a picturesque evening to serve stout.

Why have they migrated here? You left the bar at the head of College Park to flee the scarves and satchels. “Are they following me?” No. “Compose yourself” you say as you wipe the sweat from your sweat and your brow from your chin. There’s a perfectly understandable reason for all this: Covid. Blame everything on 2020 – we haven’t had dry socks since. People drank outside on the Powerscourt steps on South William St. , and when the steps were too full they moved to the curb. Not quite the fix; cars go up and down South William. Perfect solution – sit on Drury St! No cars, less chance of sore toes and less noise. Drinking cans on the street was a lot more enjoyable, I can see it now: “Are you poor? Do you wanna act rich? Do you have rich friends who act poor and you wanna act like you’re acting poor so you can hang out with your rich friends? Do you like teething on cold bottles of Tyskie at 8pm in the summer? Of course you do! It’s 27 degrees – who wouldn’t! Come on down to Drury!” It makes perfect sense; even The Pav can get expensive, but on Drury St at least everybody can congregate regardless of financials. “Wanna go out with your coursemates but can’t afford that 8 Euro Madri? That’s fine man, just bring your own pack of beers and sit outside with the rest of your friends. If some of them want a fresh pint they can go in and get one – they always had notions anyway!”

You start to understand the draw. You’ve worked here in the mornings, setting up chairs and tables and watching people go by and it makes sense. You’ve seen them go from grabbing 2 euro coffee in Heartbreak to browsing in Loot, Emporium or Om Diva, gradually parading down past the long-haired and ever stylish Drury-dancer into either Mani or Roots . It’s interesting how these establishments added to the collapsing-star-like pull of this street. Both spots opened at the height of açai and slice pizza hype and have ridden this train ever since. Trendy, it’s all so trendy. Everything on the street works together in a perfect safe haven in the metropolitan gullet, surrounded by Dublin’s otherwise bleak edges. 

You wonder, as the front of your boot fills up with a sticky fluid (presumably Cola, if the street was designed much like Newgrange) how it is that, regardless of what time it is, the sun always blasts Drury’s red bricks from a – not so often seen by bartenders – sunrise to a gold-clad sunset that you regularly find yourself in the background of? Time? 11pm: perfect. You’re in for the next wave of customers as the off-licences closed an hour ago and people’s beer will have run out. Both hands pulling pints now, two Guinness in your right and Asahi in your left, your eyes dot around to see Sinn Féin politicians, street interviewers, former college SU presidents, rugby and football heads alike, tattoo artists, musicians, regulars, other bartenders, your own distraught reflection in a mirror. Generally speaking, there is a sense of community, creativity and inclusivity that’s new and refreshing to Dublin. 

Street partying in city centres is seen all across Europe. It’s integral to a city’s culture to be able to enjoy yourself and feel safe and at home on the streets of your own town. When managed correctly, as is the case by the businesses on Drury St, Fade St, South William St and Stephens St, (who work in tandem with city council to maintain these streets) we allow people to feel a sense of togetherness that can’t be matched in the commercialised and disconnected night clubs which have proven to be less and less of a safe space for many. Nights like Culture Night, when this kind of activity spreads to all corners of the city with street raves and alley concerts, should be further encouraged and not wrongfully punished as was the case with certain streets this year.

It’s 1am and somebody just threw up on the stairs. You start to question your career choices.