So we come to a halt as a line of non-bus traffic streams up Tallaght Village. The bus driver sits there looking at the "Republic & Northern Ireland" delivery van with its indicator on wishing to turn into the grounds of the Institute of Technology. We wait. The van driver waits. The sensors in the road detect the weight of the bus and turn the traffic light green. We continue to wait.
"You'll have to reverse!" one of the drivers waiting illegally in the traffic shouts out.
"Who'll have to reverse?" asks the bus driver through the open window. "I'm in a bus lane."
We wait. Someone honks a car horn.
"Frank," says the bus driver into his radio. "You'll have to get down here. The whole bus plug is filled up."
The traffic moves up a little in the opposite direction. The dog-faced delivery van driver peers solemnly at the bus passengers glaring out at him. He keeps his indicator on.
At the other end, a line of cars followed by a bus approaches and stops at the red light. To the left, a long line of traffic trying to exit the I.T. is stuck because our bus is stuck on the road across the gate.
A man gets out of an unseen vehicle and walks around the front of the bus. He walks up to the van driver and says something to him, waving the van off. The van driver looks at him impassively. Finally, after a ten minute stand off, there's enough room to move off and we make a run for Tallaght Village.
"Frank, you'll have to get the guards to go up there. I don't know what's going on."
Bad driving, that's what's going on.
I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for a guard to arrive on a Friday evening either.