As soon as we laid eyes on what was before us, my friends and I, all aged between 25-27, exploded with laughter. However, it wasn’t a funny kind of laughter, it was a “Christ, we’ve wasted most of the day on this sh*t” kind of laughter. There were a scattering of young kids being pushed around a big field in inflatable balls, and one or two others with what looked like home-made bow and arrows aiming at a crudely drawn bulls-eye board. The look of absolute disinterest on their faces made me wonder if the people working there were trying to explain the Fiscal Stability Treaty to them between goes. Kids have more fun at mass on Christmas Day than they do at this place.
Needless to say, we turned our backs and walked the other way. What annoyed me was that the woman on the phone had assured me earlier that day, with great confidence, that we would have a ball. She even said that there was a treasure hunt that we would enjoy (I can only imagine how bad that would have been). My one regret from the day is that I didn’t find this woman and verbally abuse her before leaving.
The only adventurous part of the whole experience was trying to find the place; there wasn’t a sign to be found anywhere in the maze that is Clondalkin. I’m certain that they know how bad their operation is and live in hope of people giving up and simply forfeiting the tickets they had already paid for online.