Ron Weasel.

I hugged Dave goodbye, and stepped through the windy concourse at Union station, onto the train to Washington DC.

I was tired and worried that I hadn't been able to smoke before I got on. These journies are tense.

I found my seat, and put my headphones in. It was 7pm, I had 17 hours ahead of me before reaching my destination and was trying to work out whether I should sleep right away. Luckily, I didn't have to make that decision myself, because Ron sat next to me.

Ron is everything that scares me about America.

Ron is 59 years old. He has bucked teeth, wears a NASA cap, claims that he knows God, and is one hell of a dumb ass motherfucker. I think Ron has ADHD, either that or he is oblivious to controlling oneself in any civil situation. Ron talked at me. Lots of people have talked at me in this country, but this guy takes the absolute.fucking.biscuit.

Ron told me he brought a bottle of water with him, because he didn't want to have a stroke on the train, after all, it is a long journey. Thanks Ron, my blood is jam at the moment, and there's no way i'm paying 4 bucks for a bottle of Daisani. Daisani is water bottled by coca-cola. It is not spring water, it is tap water with added minerals. It made a short appearance in Britain but I believe is no longer available, because it's a disgrace.

Ron likes to point at the most inane things and make a song and dick-van-fucking-dyke dance about them.

"Seesh! Look at that Pylon!"

"Jeez, those rocks there, look!"

If Ron was my three year old child, I would have quietly suffocated him.


After half an hour of him dropping warm parcels in his trousers everytime we passed something that wasn't a brick wall, Ron asked me about religion.

"Has God touched you son?" He asked, leaning into his magazine, leaving approximately half an inch between his hairy little nose and the page.

By this time I was ready to strangle him.

"I'm agnostic" I replied. "I like Jews the best though"

"I don't understand" Ron spat in my ear.

"Neither do I"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know....what do you mean?"

"hmmmmm......Is everything well in your life boy?"

"As well as can be, I suppose. I just haven't heard God do much recently, but I won't rule him out"

Then came this.

"Look at what God is doing now boy! He's giving us the strength to teach the East"

"Sorry, you don't mean the war, do you Ron?"

"Of course I do! Why, these people are savages. Uncivilised. They are coming round to us....."

All of a sudden Ron's voice became muffled, I couldn't quite hear what he was saying anymore. I looked down and realised the volume on my ipod had turned itself up. "Bye Ron, you shit scoffing imbecile" I thought, as a man called Tom encouraged me to "Clap Hands"


I listen to Tom Waits for unhealthy amounts of time. I have done for a while now. Perhaps it's because he is so fucking cool. I don't know.

I listened to a song of his called 'God's away on business' the opening line reads "I'd sell your heart to the junk man baby, for a buck, for a buck!" I like this line, it's one of the only things that makes me smile when thinking about my ex.


After a while, I opened my eyes, and realised Ron was still talking. To me? Fuck knows. I peered across my seat to a black guy, holding the cutest little boys in his arms. I rolled my eyes and subtly drew a gun shaped hand to my head. He smiled and held a clenched fist out, I punched it and we chuckled. Ron didn't notice, I don't even know if Ron knows why he is alive.

We stopped at a place called Toledo. I jumped off for a cigarette. Outside I met a girl with a field recorder. She is doing the Amtrak train route across the states, recording everything she hears. I like that idea. I wouldn't want to be part of her homecoming 'slideshow viewing' though.

Whilst smoking, a man came and hugged me.

"You part of the family brother?"

"Ermm, no?"

"You know the family though, don'cha?"

Judging by the way this guy spoke, the clothes he wore, and the fact that he hugged me without introduction, led me to believe he was talking about a branch of the famous 'family' that began in the mid-late 60's. You can find out about this, by googling the name 'Charles Manson'. I have read alot about this 'family' and believe them to be absolute nutjobs, I believe Roman Polanski might be on my side too.

"Billy's the name. You part of the German chapter?"

This guy doesn't know me, he heard me say the word 'no' and already thinks I'm a German, manson freak, clinging onto some dream of permanent bewilderment from a few decades back. Billy was far more interesting than Ron though, so I sat with him a while back on the train.

Billy and I talked about Europe and drugs. In fact, Billy cared only about drugs, something I find tragic in a man of about fifty. Billy stroked his beard and rubbed the fleece around his belly in an 'old man' fashion when recounting stories of his drug addled youth, and would smile and nod when I gave him a taste of my experiences. We talked for a good three hours, right up until Billy had to get off the train. He gave me his number, and told me to meet him in California in the summer. He said he would have lots of Ipomea seeds. I smiled and said "yeah,of course" the same line I've bowled out to dozens of people I'll never see again.


I stood smoking at Pittsburgh station with a skinny, bespectacled teacher from New York. He told me his girlfriend is from Cambridge, England, and he showed me a picture of a chavvy looking thirty something.

"She looks nice" I said, passing his wallet back, thinking about some chavvy looking thirty something screwing some guy from down the road while her nerdy 'boyfriend' is in America.


I got back on the train and fell asleep listening to Joni Mitchell.



I woke suddenly to Ron's fat ass in my face.

"What a hoot! Trying to squeeze by ya here!" He chuckled as he nose clamped me with his but cheeks.

Yeah what a hoot Ron. What a fucking hoot.

I got up and walked towards the dining car for breakfast, but noticed Ron was there, so I sharply span around and sat back down. The black guy across the path smiled at me. I stuck my tongue out at his son. Big mistake. His son had been crying a long time, but as soon as I did that, he stopped. I was now obliged toward the other passengers to prevent him from screaming. The guy passed the two year old to me, and I spent the next two hours contorting my face in front of a kid I don't know. It was pretty fun, actually, I stuck an ear bud in the boys head and made him listen to 'Burial' at the same time. Maybe he'll remember that.

The train pulled in and I hailed a cab. I drove past Capitol hill and some shops. Washington looks dull. Everyone I saw at the train station looked important, I bet they're not though. I miss Chicago, and the nights me and Dave had. Even the last, when I tried to walk on a frozen lake Michigan and planted my left leg into sub sub sub zero waters. Idiot.