Update from the train
Cool running, summer breeze. 33 degrees and a lot of night time to go.
Crazy priest blurts out he wants another Scotch, but the porter doesn’t hear too good.Maybe he doesn’t want to deal with the old rummy. I don’t.
Last stop was months ago. Some alien outpost where dogs, dyed pink stood out on the streets as their well heeled owners dressed in Armani, smoking small cigarettes. Nothing new. Fads are returning before they are allowed to die.
Busy trying to dunk a donut. Whistle blows. Coffee spills. Man, it’s earlier than I thought.