Diary of a Gen Z Student: I enjoy my cost-effective drinking on Drury Street! Can you blame me?

Jane Cowan: "The drinking on Drury Street also starts at about 4pm every day, 2pm if the temperature is above 13 degrees. So, you can almost always count on a lively atmosphere."  Picture: Moya Nolan.

One of my most beloved hangout spots in Dublin has been making headlines recently. Drury Street, home to some of Dublin’s chicest wine bars and angriest bar staff. It has become something of a target for denigration by many. 

Businesses that occupy the street complain about the anti-social behaviour ruining their shopfronts, while young wans who just want somewhere to have a few cans say that their sense of community is being eroded by sellers trying to get Drury Street under control.

I see both sides of the argument. It’s hard to conduct business with people urinating outside your homeware shop. Equally, it’s hard to drink eight cans on the footpath without needing to relieve yourself at some stage. 

And seeing as your drinks weren’t purchased in a bar, it’s not always possible to sneak your way into some actual toilets without being asked to fork out ten euros for a bottle of Corona and a mouldy slice of lime. 

I hear you; people should refrain from peeing on the street. No one wants to see a man christen a shop front or a woman shamelessly squat under the cover of a flowy summer skirt. But this is the reality of Drury Street.

Oh, dear disgruntled reader, you may be thinking to yourself, ‘Whatever happened to house parties?’ To that I say, ‘Whatever happened to houses?’ 

Young people in Ireland can’t get their hands on anything other than their mammy’s box room. It’s not our fault! 

How is anyone supposed to afford avocado toast AND rent? You should pity us really. Sitting on cold kerbs to enjoy lukewarm cans. The back ache, the taste of tin, the piles. It’s no wonder birth rates are decreasing.

There are many advantages to this type of drinking. For one thing, it’s about as cheap as a night out in Dublin comes. No need to pay a night club entry fee, you can get the shoe sticking experience for the price of a few cans from Tesco. 

The drinking on Drury Street also starts at about 4pm every day, 2pm if the temperature is above 13 degrees. So, you can almost always count on a lively atmosphere. 

However, you will also have to put up with looks of disapproval from the people walking past. They’ll say that they’re opposed to the footpath being impeded. Really, they’re walking back to the office carrying an overpriced ham sandwich. 

They know they’ll have to spend their evening bringing children to tap dancing lessons or writing emails about their child’s dietary requirements ahead of their school tour. I feel for them, but I’m 21; I’ll be doing the school run in due time. Let me have this, for now.

You have to see where we’re coming from: college is finished up for the summer. And writing four essays per semester really takes its toll. We need to decompress. Businesses could be happy to see so many young people socialising in the fresh (vape-flavoured) air. But no. They’ll worry about the entrance to their shop being inhibited by some lad sitting on the footpath, crying into his drink about the one that got away (the one he ghosted). Surely, we should be praising such expressions of emotion from men, not telling them to urinate only in a designated toilet. Way to kick a man when he’s already down. I mean, where is our empathy?

I’d go so far as to say, if these businesses were being a little more optimistic about things, they could look at it as some free publicity. They’ve now been branded as the urine-soaked shops of Dublin. If all publicity is good, the amount of it these businesses have been getting must be great!

Okay, okay. Maybe my biases are showing. I enjoy my cost-effective drinking in the sun! But can you blame me? With limited housing, a cost of living crisis, public transport that refuses to run on time, the price of the Children’s Hospital going up, and Dublin’s hard water contributing to the frizz of my hair, it’s easy to feel that our problems are insurmountable. 

I agree, I’m probably wrong to contribute to the drinking culture on Drury Street. I’m also wrong when I tell my dentist I floss twice a day. Sometimes, I’m willing to be wrong. If you’re able to find me a beer garden with prices that rival Tesco, I’d be happy to relocate my drinking. 

I do sympathise with the businesses on Drury Street, but this feels like an issue for Dublin City Council. Maybe give us a few benches. We’d only be delighted to get up off the bloody kerbs.