HOW TO HAVE A GOOD TIME BY: Mr. Smith (Bower)
BY: Mr. Smith (Bower)
So. You find yourself stuck in a foreign country. In an airport or a train station. Speaking not a word of the language and listening to the homeless man beating on his out of tune guitar at the entrance, some version of Come Together right now over me. He got a no snip snopp oh yeah over me. And you need sleep. But your traveling partner still has yet to arrive. Note to travelers, a midnight arrival signifies a new day and a day later on the ticket. You have 24 hours to blow but must stick near the train station. Those benches over there look inviting, you curl around your rucksack to fend off the slippery fingers of the heroin addicts in desperate need of goods to sell and drift off into a half dream world, where your mother shouts “ding dong sam a sam a sam 17.50 arrival ding dong”. The man sleeping next to you on the opposite bench is eyeing your sleeping bag and pad. He speaks to you in his tongue and you inform him that you have no idea what he is saying since you are a self centered American. This man with ski boots on his feet and a garbage bag full of his belongings speaks perfect English. America huh? I went there once, Texas was a big place, warm, and someone stole all my bags, my clothes, my food, my money, everything. A good trip though. He is homeless now. You ask him were he sleeps at night around here. A shady looking park where his pals suck down the alcohol based mentholated spirits for camp stoves for kicks, a neon sign illuminating your wooden bench bed with the time. He teaches you to cheat the system. How to get into a pay toilet without paying a coin. Your eyes and head and body hurt from waiting on that bench, having to carry your human sized pack whenever you take a walk around, too cheap to pay for a locker. You still have 12 hours to kill. It is cold out of the station it is McDonalds out of the station and you have never seen anything like this outside of the station. Everyone seems dressed up, looking good for the trip, first impressions are oh so important when you step off that mode of transport searching for the company who should be waiting for you. Bet you every one here knows how to make rice. Two parts water to one part rice, put the water in the pot, bring it to a boil, toss in the rice, bring it to a boil, cover, turn down the heat
So. You find yourself stuck in a foreign country. In an airport or a train station. Speaking not a word of the language and listening to the homeless man beating on his out of tune guitar at the entrance, some version of Come Together right now over me. He got a no snip snopp oh yeah over me. And you need sleep. But your traveling partner still has yet to arrive. Note to travelers, a midnight arrival signifies a new day and a day later on the ticket. You have 24 hours to blow but must stick near the train station. Those benches over there look inviting, you curl around your rucksack to fend off the slippery fingers of the heroin addicts in desperate need of goods to sell and drift off into a half dream world, where your mother shouts “ding dong sam a sam a sam 17.50 arrival ding dong”. The man sleeping next to you on the opposite bench is eyeing your sleeping bag and pad. He speaks to you in his tongue and you inform him that you have no idea what he is saying since you are a self centered American. This man with ski boots on his feet and a garbage bag full of his belongings speaks perfect English. America huh? I went there once, Texas was a big place, warm, and someone stole all my bags, my clothes, my food, my money, everything. A good trip though. He is homeless now. You ask him were he sleeps at night around here. A shady looking park where his pals suck down the alcohol based mentholated spirits for camp stoves for kicks, a neon sign illuminating your wooden bench bed with the time. He teaches you to cheat the system. How to get into a pay toilet without paying a coin. Your eyes and head and body hurt from waiting on that bench, having to carry your human sized pack whenever you take a walk around, too cheap to pay for a locker. You still have 12 hours to kill. It is cold out of the station it is McDonalds out of the station and you have never seen anything like this outside of the station. Everyone seems dressed up, looking good for the trip, first impressions are oh so important when you step off that mode of transport searching for the company who should be waiting for you. Bet you every one here knows how to make rice. Two parts water to one part rice, put the water in the pot, bring it to a