Alright, now we were Guelph bound. It was time for us to feel some reprieve from the wretched walls of Toronto.
Sam had taken us out for some decidedly unimpressive "suicide hot" wings after we'd gotten ourselves kicked out of Dickhead's bar. The restaurant we ended up in promised us painfully spicy hot sauce, but after downing 20 wings, me, Fernweh and Scrib had barely broken a sweat. We'd been traveling across the country in search of true spice, and were still yet to find any (though this was bound to change in the next week.)
We walked to the train station with Sam afterwards, bid her a goodbye filled with warm embraces, and then proceeded to make our first mistake of the day: we paid for our Go! train tickets. Only once we were on the train did we realize how easy it would have been to just hop on.
Fortunately, after we'd made out way to the second deck of the Go! train, we recounted our money and realized that we'd vastly overestimated our ability to do math. We still had enough change left over to cover another set of train tickets back... which meant: beer. Now we were over-excited to get to Guelph.
We sat on the train, being our usual belligerently, assly selves. As we were proceeding to fill the air with banter and general ignorance, one of us pondered aloud, "how is it that so many people like us? We suck!"
"Who the fuck knows. Maybe people our overwhelmed by the contrast and the stark difference between our stupidity and our intelligence."
We debated the topic of our undeserved popularity for a while until the guy sitting behind Scrib turned around. He caught my eye, then reached into his bag and pulled out a mickey of vodka. He handed it to Scrib.
After we picked our jaws up off the floor, we thanked him profusely. Was our belligerence really enough reason for people to be so generous? Either way, we drank the mickey right there and proceeded to crank the volume up a few decibels. After chatting up a gorgeous muslim lady sitting across the aisleway, (and after having a few shots) we felt fully confident that our obnoxious demeanor was charming everyone on the train, so we kept it up.
Near the end the train ride, we went downstairs to have a smoke. We wrenched the automatic sliding door open and surreptitiously looked past the "NO SMOKING" sign. Instead we focused on the blur of a treescape that rushed past outside while we lit one up.
A few drags later, a red light blinked on and the train started to slow down, so we jammed the doors shut and bolted back to our seats. Moments after this, Blazer showed up.
We'd met Blazer earlier - he was the train's conductor. He'd disapproved of our playing didgeridoo earlier, and he'd told us not to play any music on the train. This time, when he found us, we were picking some single notes on the guitar out of sedentary boredom to pass time until the train started again. Despite not playing loud enough for the single passenger left on the train to hear, and despite the fact that, earlier, she'd told us she liked our music, Blazer freaked out.
"I told you guys. NO MUSIC!" We stayed silent, impressed at his determination to stay true to his asinine rules. "You guys weren't smoking any cigarettes?"
"No, sir." This wasn't a lie. We'd each taken a drag of a cigarette. Nobody had smoked a whole cigarette at all.
Blazer's warning was useless anyway. By the time we would have finished smoking a cigarette, we would have arrived in Guelph. Once we'd arrived and stepped off the train, we had a moment of train-hopping nostalgia... our cart had been on the end of the train, and the gate towards town was near the front. We hopped onto a pipe that was hanging off the train over the tracks. Holding on for dear amusement, we let the train bring us across the yard towards the gate.
Finally, we left the yard. Welcome to Guelph, boys.
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