Biographical Tid Bit #2 - Conclusion

I was alone on my bench.

Being alone was no problem. In fact, given the company that I'd been keeping over the last ten days...it was preferable.

I spent the first night of the trip in London...where a man was kicked out of a bar because he would not stop telling me, the bartender, and the clock on the wall how much he loved my "Texas" accent.
There was the girl from San Fransico who'd given me a stern lecture on the racial history of Mississippi in a hostel kitchen...that was a real bonus seein' how all I had to do to get it was tell her I was from Mississippi. It's not like I could argue with her though because her credentials were impeccable...she'd once driven through the state.
There was the old man on a train who I'd had a pleasant enough conversation with until he started insisting, a little too insistently, that I come to see him the next time was in London.
Of course Holyhead was where I met Bevis and Butthead, but it was also where I was chased onto the ferry by a randy woman who had dragged her kids across the Irish Sea so she could buy and drink cases of duty free Fosters.

I was due some alone time.

It's the cold I couldn't handle. I'm uncomfortable when it gets under 60 degrees and that night, on that metal bench...it was like layin' on a block of ice in a fishtank filled with liquid nitrogen and pranhas.

I tried everything...I unpacked my duffle bag and stuck my feet in it, covered myself with the contents, and put my head in a sweater...none of it did anything for the two feet of empty, icy air-space between me and the floor.

When I did doze off for a second or two I'd wake up mumbling about the degoba system. I dreamt that a rugby player had killed a sherpa with a fork. I woke up unable to feel my feet, frightened for a split-second that they had been eatin. It was time to get up.

I didn't know what I was gonna do. I was exhausted, but unless I kept movin' I was certain I was gonna freeze to death. So, I went to the bathroom...it was about the only activity available. I noticed it was slightly warmer in there. It was still cold enough to hang meat, but I was willing to take a few degrees whereever I could get 'em. I was thinking I'd get my stuff and pile up in there as I stuck my hands under the dryer.

As the warm air pushed beads of water around the back of my hands and they began to thaw...I realized I could make it through the night.

I got my stuff and piled it as high as I could under the hand dryer...and sat against the wall. Whenever I felt the vicious cold slithering around my neck and into my ears I'd reach up and hit the button...warmth. I actually managed to get a few hours of sleep that way and finally the morning came.

I had a lot of time to kill before the train came...I had candy-bar for breakfast and wandered around Holyhead...

The trip back was uneventful. There were two American kids on the train from someplace here in the states where people communicate at a volume just below yelling, but I was too wiped out to be bothered.

When I got to Heathrow it was late, but I was able to change my flight to one that was leaving first thing in the morning. That process had not gone off entirely without a hitch. The old fella at the counter had called me a yankee. After three days without a shower, sleeping in basements and bathrooms I probably looked and smelled the part, but I informed him in no uncertain terms that I was not a yankee. Fortunately the lady standing with him smiled at me and said "he's a Southern boy."

I returned the smile with hearty "Yes ma'am." It was the first bit of comfort I had felt in days.

The old man grumbled.."You're all yanks to me." Whatever.

I found a chair and settled in, but before I could drift off there was one more visitor. A bag lady wondered in through the sliding doors, walked straight to the wall where I was sitting and began...well I'm not gonna get into it...let's just leave it at disgusting. There wasn't a lot of room in my chair but I did my best to get further away...she looked down at me and hissed..."Look at me again and I'll kill you."

"Lady if you're lookin' to scare a person...you gonna have to find somebody that hasn't spent a night on a Greyhound bus...get on from here." She did.

So did I the next morning.