Canada
So I woke up, at my hosts home. In snowy Montreal, and I made my way to the station. At some point I bought some shooters. Shot glasses. The majority of which were destroyed by falling books, in 1999.
I lived on poutine. Which is fries/chips in gravy with shavings of cheese. I was introduced to this by my friend Canadian steve. I compared this Quebocois dish to steak and kidney pie.
I had been wandering up and down the Rue De St Catherine. I had passed a few sex shops/Strip joints. The sort of thing, you would see in Soho. I remember some Graffiti proclaiming the Only good cop is a dead cop. I walked about the shopping malls. Seeing a copy of Chelsea FC's official magazine, and learning of the death of Dermot Morgan in a copy of the Irish world.
I should had mentioned earlier changed my plans, in traveling to Montreal. I had expected to be able to fund a trip home, with a diversion to montreal, via my return ticket and some change.
Something went wrong at some point. It turns out that the Bank I used had missed or delayed a payment to me.( This I mean, they had not sent the money to me, my parents had given me, when I am saying my money here. I mean the money I begged and cajoled my parents into giving me)
So I wandered around aimlessly hoping that my money would turn up. I didn't want to go back to the guys I stayed with last night. So I tried to stay at the station. I was hoping I would get the train in the morning. I don't know what I was thinking.
I had about 30 dollars in my pocket. I found an awful hotel, which had a room with a shared bathroom, for 30 dollars. There was blood on the sheets, and a smashed mirror, there were other stains on the floor
I was so scared someone would come in. The door did not lock. I pushed the bed against the door.
I had stayed in aother hotel. Sometime before. Was it in Montreal? Possibly on the way to Montreal. I gave them my credit card, and hid in the room. I remember drinking the coffee. Writing a note promising to pay them back. Either they took pity or just charged my card
The next day. I did what all teenagers do, when faced with a crisis.
I called home
My mother shouted at me, for an hour.
I have to admire the energy that took
My dad was calmer. Told me not to worry, and that we (Him) would pay it.
You know he would just pull a few more shifts, in all weathers, up several stories. Surrounded by violent individuals. With live wires, and heavy machinary
She was calling a pay phone in Canada, I had reversed the charges.
TMy parents told me, to contact my friends. They went to the back. I called steve. He told me to see, the lads I saw last night. Who gave me a bed, and some food. The next day I went to a Western Union place and I got my money. It was St Patricks day. There were celebrations in Montreal.
I stored my luggage, a ruck sack. In the tourist office.
There were Irish wolfhounds. They played the Soldiers Song.
I ate a chicken burger. I hate chicken burgers, and than I got a ticket, home on the bus. I had a notion of coming back to the fellows with a crate of beer, as a grand thanks. But no, I decided not to tempt fate. The bus took me as far as New York The first time, I was in New york for St Pats. I was at the Port authority bus terminal, where I got my ticket, and waited for . Than to Washington.
At Washington, I thought my money troubles would be over. I thought I would just cash in the rest of my ticket, back to North Carolina. It was not transferable despite the efforts of the African American Woman working the desk that day. She apparently wished she could holiday in the NC mountains again. I hope she did
I went into Nations bank, to ask where my money was. They said, it was a bank problem in the UK.
From washington, I made another phone call with the help of my cousin. I got a ticket, back to chapel hill. They gave me money for food too. I changed buses in Richmond, which was the US murder capital at the time. It was also the capital of the old confederacy. There were black and white TV's in the seats in the rest /waiting areas. You put in a quarter and they played Tv for half an hour.
I got off, the bus in Chapel hill, walked down Franklin street and came to my room. My message board was full of messages. I took of my clothes, and went to sleep while the diligent attended class
I woke and I showered for the first time in days.
I was tardy paying the money back, to my cousin. Much to my mothers distress. I never heard from Canadian steve again.
My journey was over 1000 miles, and I don't think I learned anything. My converse boots, had faded in the snow. I had a beard, and some whiskey, and shot glasses.
Thats all that remains
A shot glass,
A rush of excitement, while the sensible people stick to their pints
I lived on poutine. Which is fries/chips in gravy with shavings of cheese. I was introduced to this by my friend Canadian steve. I compared this Quebocois dish to steak and kidney pie.
I had been wandering up and down the Rue De St Catherine. I had passed a few sex shops/Strip joints. The sort of thing, you would see in Soho. I remember some Graffiti proclaiming the Only good cop is a dead cop. I walked about the shopping malls. Seeing a copy of Chelsea FC's official magazine, and learning of the death of Dermot Morgan in a copy of the Irish world.
I should had mentioned earlier changed my plans, in traveling to Montreal. I had expected to be able to fund a trip home, with a diversion to montreal, via my return ticket and some change.
Something went wrong at some point. It turns out that the Bank I used had missed or delayed a payment to me.( This I mean, they had not sent the money to me, my parents had given me, when I am saying my money here. I mean the money I begged and cajoled my parents into giving me)
So I wandered around aimlessly hoping that my money would turn up. I didn't want to go back to the guys I stayed with last night. So I tried to stay at the station. I was hoping I would get the train in the morning. I don't know what I was thinking.
I had about 30 dollars in my pocket. I found an awful hotel, which had a room with a shared bathroom, for 30 dollars. There was blood on the sheets, and a smashed mirror, there were other stains on the floor
I was so scared someone would come in. The door did not lock. I pushed the bed against the door.
I had stayed in aother hotel. Sometime before. Was it in Montreal? Possibly on the way to Montreal. I gave them my credit card, and hid in the room. I remember drinking the coffee. Writing a note promising to pay them back. Either they took pity or just charged my card
The next day. I did what all teenagers do, when faced with a crisis.
I called home
My mother shouted at me, for an hour.
I have to admire the energy that took
My dad was calmer. Told me not to worry, and that we (Him) would pay it.
You know he would just pull a few more shifts, in all weathers, up several stories. Surrounded by violent individuals. With live wires, and heavy machinary
She was calling a pay phone in Canada, I had reversed the charges.
TMy parents told me, to contact my friends. They went to the back. I called steve. He told me to see, the lads I saw last night. Who gave me a bed, and some food. The next day I went to a Western Union place and I got my money. It was St Patricks day. There were celebrations in Montreal.
I stored my luggage, a ruck sack. In the tourist office.
There were Irish wolfhounds. They played the Soldiers Song.
I ate a chicken burger. I hate chicken burgers, and than I got a ticket, home on the bus. I had a notion of coming back to the fellows with a crate of beer, as a grand thanks. But no, I decided not to tempt fate. The bus took me as far as New York The first time, I was in New york for St Pats. I was at the Port authority bus terminal, where I got my ticket, and waited for . Than to Washington.
At Washington, I thought my money troubles would be over. I thought I would just cash in the rest of my ticket, back to North Carolina. It was not transferable despite the efforts of the African American Woman working the desk that day. She apparently wished she could holiday in the NC mountains again. I hope she did
I went into Nations bank, to ask where my money was. They said, it was a bank problem in the UK.
From washington, I made another phone call with the help of my cousin. I got a ticket, back to chapel hill. They gave me money for food too. I changed buses in Richmond, which was the US murder capital at the time. It was also the capital of the old confederacy. There were black and white TV's in the seats in the rest /waiting areas. You put in a quarter and they played Tv for half an hour.
I got off, the bus in Chapel hill, walked down Franklin street and came to my room. My message board was full of messages. I took of my clothes, and went to sleep while the diligent attended class
I woke and I showered for the first time in days.
I was tardy paying the money back, to my cousin. Much to my mothers distress. I never heard from Canadian steve again.
My journey was over 1000 miles, and I don't think I learned anything. My converse boots, had faded in the snow. I had a beard, and some whiskey, and shot glasses.
A shot glass,
A rush of excitement, while the sensible people stick to their pints
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