Train track trance and toilet troubles.

by justbekozlowski

Eventually I felt the urge to lie down and rest before the following day. Mainly because I knew I’d be arriving in Madrid than because I was tired. I went to the toilet quickly, it was pretty impressive how disgusting it was. My foot slipped as I stepped into the cubicle because the floor was so wet with the same thing that the room smelled of. Luckily I didn’t fall. I did my business quickly and washed my hands. The water which left the tap smelt of fountain pen corrector fluid, I dried and went to bed.

I went into the four-bed dorm. The man above me was wearing far too much aftershave so at least the room smelt quite nice even if he did roll over every two minutes throughout the night. The man on the opposite top bunk was already in bed yet the bed opposite me remained unoccupied. I lay down and watched the occasional outside glow stroke the room with its light through the gap in the curtains. Soon snoring started emanating from the other beds and I wished that I could do the same. I thought about Lugo, I thought about my family back home and I wondered where I was going, what it would feel like and who would be there.

Eventually empty bed man appeared joined the room of train track dreamers. Soon after I slipped into a sleep, a light sleep that was eased by the rocking of the train and disturbed by the bite of the brakes as we pulled into the stations. I awoke at seven, buzzing still. I would soon be in Madrid. There was no sleeping now. One of the snorers had awoken and was rustling about in the dark. He left and then the second snorer followed suit and took the smell of perfume with him. I got dressed and lay on the bed daydreaming to compensate for a lack of dreams in the night. About half past , the conductor came and made a racket on the buzzer and said we’d arrive in forty minutes. I continued to dream as the fourth man left and only I remained. Soon it was time to throw the snail pack on and get waddling down the corridor to find Madrid in the same place where my friends had stood a few hours before.

I disembarked and proceeded to the airport via the Cercanias. I had an incredibly expensive breakfast in Terminal 4 as I realised I hadn’t eaten much the day before. Then I caught the shuttle to Terminal 1. I checked in my rucksack and guitar then found where I needed to be. I had a few hours to kill so I slept on my backpack filled with books and my jacket folded on top. I drifted off a few times then continued to read my book. The gate slowly filled with Italian voices, Spanish voices and the occasional priest. I have never seen so many priests in an airport before.