Oh man...OH GOD...OH MANOHGODOHMAN*

*more on this later.

First of all, the train is IMPOSSIBLE TO SLEEP ON. Unless you like sitting up. We do not.
But we're getting ahead of ourselves, as we often do. Our journey began, not in a train, but in a train station. A fine distinction to be sure, but important nonetheless, because not all journeys get off without a hitch. Take the quarreling gay couple behind us in the ticket line, for example. Hell hath no fury like a gay man irritated, and the two behind us were a prime example. Our blogging instincts were not fast enough to record this epic squabble, but we have done our best to reproduce it. What follows is merely a dramatization:






Once on the train, Scott asked the nice cafe man who happened to also be African American where the outlets were so we could plug in his laptop. He told him there were very few outlets, and then made about a three-minute announcement that ended with "So don be ASKIN me where the outlets are at." He is one of our prime suspects. Prime suspect for what, you ask? Now we'll get to the title.

A homeless fellow approached Marissa and Scott while walking to the hostel. He started singing, telling us he didn't want our money, you know, the usual protocol, and then asked for a meal. Scott, in what Marissa thought was a stroke of genius, exclaimed, "Oh no! I lost my wallet!" But when Marissa asked as they scurried away if he was for real, he looked sad (changed from "on the verge of tears" by Scott). Train searches, lost and founds, and police reports later, there was still no wallet to be found. Can you get into a bar if you show them a copy of your passport and a student ID? Let's hope so. Oh, and I guess we should also hope the airline lets him on.

We blame it on Expoland! Had Scott not put his new, slippery wallet, in his new fat-pocketed brown cords, this never would have happened!