It was around 6.30am i felt the finger poke my shoulder.I awoke from my drunken slumber to a strange scene there was a grey plastic table pinning me to my seat and a large glass window to my right.The finger poking my shoulder was attached to the hand of a frustrated looking train conductor.He gestured for me get up and leave “Last stop mate time to go”.Where the hell was i?My brain began putting the information together,i was on a train, that was now certain.As i clumsily dragged myself out from the seats i realised i needed more information.I looked down the isle to the conductor who by now had a slightly disgusted look upon his face.”What station is this?” my voice croaked.The conductor looked as confused as i felt. “Manchester Picadilly mate”.This was of great shock to me as the last memory i had was of leaving a terrible 80’s bar in York to walk home to my house,also in York….Carefully treading my way to the exit i could not muster another memory to explain this bizarre diversion. Stepping out on the platform the cold air hit me and my gut became angry.I had dealt with this beast before and knew i must settle it with some sustenance and water.But first i must find out how to finish my journey and get home,the sleep i had already had did not suffice and i longed for my bed.Starring blankly at the screens did not solve my problem and i found the information i required from a helpful lady in the ticket booth.I had around an hour and a half to wait…
I purchased my ticket and headed to a shop to satisfy the angry pain in my stomach.Upon sitting on the most uncomfortable bench ever invented i caught a glimpse of my reflection.A figure of pure misery and guilt looked back at me as i stuffed a tasteless muffin in my mouth.My Mohawk was stuck to the side of my head and my skin looked grubby from cigarette smoke and to much booze…….The time i spent on that awful bench made me wonder how my life had reached this dismal point of waking in unknown train stations in the wrong county.Had i become so booze crazed that my brain had started taking revenge on me by fucking with my homing beacon?Was i so out of control that i must have a full time “carer” to guide away from terrible travel decisions?My brain continued its treacherous ways and before long i was wondering when opening time is in Manchester….
I called a friend in York,she was on her way to work and had no idea why i was in this mess.She was also very against the idea of me finding a pub and her driving to pick me up.A fair point i thought….The train rolled in and i boarded along with some clean looking business type people commuting to work.I must of seemed a strange sight stinking of booze and covered in studs and spikes.They thankfully deemed it necessary to sit far away from myself and so i was able to curl up on 2 seats and fall asleep in relative quiet…..
This did not last and again i was poked in the shoulder.This time the finger belonged to one of the business types who had now infested the train.It seemed the 2 seats i occupied were the only the only seats not sat upon.I sat up and let this corporate whiz kid type sit next to me.A matter of minutes went by in this new upright position until i began feeling violently sick.I gestured to my new found companion that i must vacate the seats.He stood to make way and i ran for the end of the carriage to exorcise the demon inside.The toilet area was packed with shocked looking commuters as i ran in and started banging on the locked toilet door “Please let me in im going to puke!”There was no reply to my urgent requests.I felt the eyes of my fellow passengers stare on in disbelief at my sorry looking figure.I continued with pathetic attempts to gain entry to the toilet until a lady’s voice spoke up from the silent onlookers “Thats a cleaning cupboard,the toilets at the other end”. These words took immediate effect on me and i no longer needed to puke.I sank to the floor and held my head in my hands.This was all to much for me to handle in this fragile state and i sobbed quietly.That is the way i stayed for the remainder of the journey.On hearing my stop being called i pulled my self to my feet and with all the shame of a masturbating teenager caught by his grandmother,i waded through the sea of suits and stepped out on to York station.An uncomfortable taxi ride later and i finally reached my destination only around 9 hours late……….
Later that day i received a series of text messages from a concerned woman in Dublin.She had apparently met me on the train the night before on her way to Manchester airport.She told me i was in a terrible state but was highly entertaining as i myself had no idea where i was going.During this conversation the idea had arose for me to travel with said woman to Dublin.This idea was halted by my lack of I.D and the fact i passed out mid sentence….That bastard brain nearly got me to another fucking country never mind county!!You swine!I thought as i headed in to the off licence for another trip in to the unknown…..