Brian

Thankfully, I'm in Chicago on an overnight. I managed to change my train and am spending an evening with Dave and the gang again. It's what I need after a twenty hour train ride with Brian.

When I was young I ate flumps. Flumps are a foamy, gelatinous stretch of twisty sugars and additives. If i ate a flump now I'd erupt like a volcano. From both ends. Flumps are wrong, but they're appearance is an accurate description of my internal organs after my week in New York. I miss the guys I spent that week with, though hope to see Mike very shortly in Miami.

I left Shaun's place in the rain. Cold and hungry. I took a cab with an African gentleman and got to Penn Station with half an hour to spare. I ate a baguette with a hunk of fried goodness inside it and waited for my train. I sat with two fat Spanish people and we had a confusing conversation. They spoke about the weather, I spoke about a basketball team called the 'Suns'.

We boarded and I dropped all my shit over two seats. Ron had taught me to travel alone, and I wasn't prepared for another long train ride with a freak show. I wiped my brow with the napkin from my sandwich and put my headphones in. I started listening to a song called 'Ol'55'. It bored me, so i changed it to a song called 'Califoria' it bored me, so I changed to a song called 'Moonchild'. That's better.

I closed my eyes and thought about my weekend for a brief moment, before I felt a shadow creep across my closed lids. I opened them and saw him there, Brian, picking my bag up and throwing it on the floor beside him. Not wanting to sound like a moody cunt I politely said, "Watch out, that's got my laptop in there!" trying to sound as jovial as possible.

Brian grunted."Shouldn't leave it lying around"

"Fuck you man" I sharply retorted.

"I'm Brian" he replied

I swear I'm doomed to be sat with the socially unacceptable, for every damn train journey I take.

"Right" I said, and closed my eyes. What a cunt.

"What's your name?" I heard above the Music.

I took my ears out.

"Pete" I said "Nice to meet you Brian"

"Nice to meet you too"

Scintillating conversation.

I sat and stared out the window. I saw a deer. I saw pylons. I saw graffitti. I saw water.

Brian is my age. He is from Scotland. He is travelling alone. "Wow!" I hear you cry. "You guys have got stuff in common" No we don't Brian's a cunt. Brian has gappy teeth that have either been glazed in clay, or brushed with faeces. Brian is in the army. Brian told me the army is fun. Brian likes doing guard duty in the cold. Brian told me he misses his M16 he was issued in Israel. Brian has a mohawk. I had a mohawk once, when I was twelve, then I grew up and realised mohawks are for cunts. I got a fake tan once for a laugh too, it was for fun, but I still looked like a cunt. Luckily my tan faded. Unfortunately, Brians teeth won't fade, nor his bloodshot eyes, his crazed smile, his wonky ears nor his hell of annoying accent. I'd pity the guy if he hadn't have thrown my stuff on the floor as if it were duplo. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Oh, and he wears trousers I could sleep in. And a skateboarding hoody. And he smells. Of shit.

For twenty hours I stared at this guy with two thoughts on my mind.

"Who.the.fuck let you in the army?"

and

"Am I relying on you to keep my country safe?"

Scary.


I was told by the train man that the train would be five hours late quite early on. So, I rang USA rail and changed my ticket to Texas for tomorrow. I need it, after Brian.