Post-festival litter in Athlone

Just lookit ’em there – looking so geared-up, so athletic, so noble in their pursuit of personal challenge.

It was the morning after the triAthlone and the munchkin and I were heading home from mass at the friary when a cry rang out from a nearby balcony. A boisterous group of musicians had carried their celebrations through the night unscathed into mid-morning. One opted to join us as we trekked up the river and across town for breakfast.

As we approached the riverside we noticed a significant mess ahead: bottles, cans and rubbish strewn about the car park; obvious leftovers from the festivities surrounding yesterday’s triAthlone event.

“That’s disgusting. People have no respect.”

I feel pretty strongly about littering. You may recall my rant on littering in Athlone I published a while back. My companion sympathised with me, waving the can of cider in his hand for effect at the pile of rubbish ahead,

“I don’t know why people do that – just throw their tins and rubbish anywhere.”

We both had visions of miscreant youths drinking their alcoholic beverages and leaving this mess behind . . . at least until we drew close enough to witness the litter a little closer:

An impressive collection of lucozade bottles, water bottles, energy drink cans, a couple of flip-flops and a swimming hat or two. We paused, images of the shabbily-dressed miscreant teenage criminals slowly resolving into healthy adult athletes in wetsuits.

Triathletes = litterers?

Whodathunk?