Deputy Editor Lucy Warmington reflects on how the lack of public transport in rural areas impacts engagement in nightlife.
I treasure the nights out I have had in my local pub, nestled in the whimsically dubbed ‘hidden heartlands’ of Ireland; a €5 Guinness, live trad music in the corner, and jiving in the middle of a packed floor. Not having to order because the bartender knows my drink of choice without asking, and open conversation thriving in ways it simply wouldn’t in a city bar full of strangers.
The anonymity it provides allows you to grow into adulthood without the pressure of regret, in a sense. Mistakes happen, and then Dublin buries them for you.
Still, moving from a rural to an urban nightlife setting can feel liberating. The mere nature of a city - specifically Dublin, in my case - offers an independence that rural nightlife inherently quashes. The anonymity it provides allows you to grow into adulthood without the pressure of regret, in a sense. Mistakes happen, and then Dublin buries them for you. That freedom to grow is something everyone should be allowed to feel, and it doesn’t come from the volume of venues Dublin has to offer. Frankly, I believe it comes from the agency its public transport provides.
I moved to Dublin when I was 18, yet my best friend has remained in our home town ever since, living, working, and breathing the air of rural life. To her, Dublin nightlife could never compete with a night out at home; she believes there is a sense of community, of “craic” that doesn’t quite translate to a packed Dublin street and its strict bouncers. However, she does agree that the lack of alternative transport options is a major barrier to rural nightlife. She lives beyond walking distance to her local pub, let alone to the next town over which hosts the clubs, restaurants, and bars. She describes how it takes a team to even get to her local, “[We] get dropped down to the pub, bring a car if we have to, then the car gets left at the village. Then you have to get another car down or [get dropped] down the next morning [to collect the car]. It's just painful.”
Sometimes, she will go out not knowing her options to get home, relying on the mere possibility of a lift later. Though, this is mostly due to the blasé attitude of her boyfriend whose catchphrase is ‘Ah sure we’ll have a lift home,’ until, she recounts, “we're sat on the footpath at four o'clock in the morning with no ‘Ah sure we’ll have a lift home.’” The lack of autonomy in rural nightlife, the lack of alternatives, is certainly something my friend resents, “It’s just embarrassing, sitting in the local pub and waiting for your mum to pick you up at two o'clock.”
Generally, she admits, she just won’t drink; she’ll be the taxi and do the lifts, but she claims it “ruins” her social life. Without public transport, the only option is driving. If you’re driving, you’re not drinking. If you’re not drinking, perhaps you’d like the option to go somewhere other than a pub for a night out, where you don’t have to feel like you’re missing out? For my friend and I, if we were to pursue this option at home, you’re looking at a 50 minute drive minimum to find something sobering like bowling - it’s a trek, and it’s not always worth it, because I’m shite at bowling.
Yet, further stories of drink driving incidents are not rare. Crashes, near misses, and ‘they’re lucky to be alive’ are too frequently tossed around in conversation at home, and these are the stories that don’t make it into national media.
Can you imagine if there was a public transport link that ran between rural towns late into the night? Even an hourly service circling the locality, providing connections to houses situated on the outskirts of towns? Say, a government funded extension to the Local Link? Cities have this; an increasing number of buses run 24 hours a day and a new phase of routes are currently being rolled out.
The recently announced €713 million government package for rural and local roads is welcomed; there have been 18 traffic fatalities in the first 48 days of 2025. Yet, further stories of drink driving incidents are not rare. Crashes, near misses, and ‘they’re lucky to be alive’ are too frequently tossed around in conversation at home, and these are the stories that don’t make it into national media. My friend firmly asserts that recently, she has seen a drop in the number of young people who would drink and drive home after a night in the pub, which she puts down to an increased Garda presence on rural roads at night time. I anticipate that increased public transport services would further decrease the number of people deciding to get behind the wheel after drinking. I certainly don’t want to have to keep sending ‘You Up?’ texts, at least not when it’s to ask my mother for a lift home from the pub. It’s high time to bring Nitelink services to rural Ireland.