We finished the night at the Hard Rock Cafe, which was right next door. It was the perfect opportunity, especially since at that time of night it wasn't as extremely crowded. We looked for Pearl Jam (briefly) but didn't find anything; Frank is looking at some Who memorabilia.
No, well, actually, we finished the night by walking to the train station, then waiting in the midst of a smorgasbord of humanity -- including very entertaining drunk 20 somethings sacked out in the floor -- for a half hour for a train. When the train track was announced at 12:45, we ran for the track, and made it in time to get a seat. The train seemed to never reach a speed above 20 mph and it took forever to get home. I was gasping for breath the whole time, because in spite of the ban on cigarette smoking, there is no ban on really strong perfume, and the lady in front of me, well WHOA! I dozed off on the train for a few minutes and when Frank woke me because our stop was coming up -- he could see the Galaxy Diner out the window -- I may have snapped at him a bit. Why does the end of the night seem to take FOREVER? I couldn't wait to get to bed.
1 comment:
ewwwwwwwwwwwww and plz dont ever do this mistake again i mean by mistake is never write sorrrry but gotta do whatcha gotta do
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