travellin' fool

Supposedly, Stockport is out there. I wouldn't know!

ugh. so i left cambridge yesterday, late because missed the 630 train out to stockport because i somehow managed to hang the whole automatic ticketing system because i used a credit card with no chip in it (who knew?). missing the 630 means i have to take the 7, but the route is longer- i had to switch trains 3 times to get here and each of the subseqent trains after the first were delayed or awful. it went like this:

train 1: 2.5 hour ride, sat across from the sickest man alive. like i thought this guy was going to die his his sleep sick. there weren't enough seats to move far away from him, and i needed to be near where i could see my bag so i didnt really have much of a choice to move.
-delayed 15 minutes out side of one of the stops. i have 9 minutes between trains to catch the next one, so i'm doing the math and realize i'm T-6 minutes, but they claim we're going to make it up so i'm ok. it was true, we did. we got to the platform with 3 minutes to spare before my next train so i'm running around with my 50 lb suitcase, my laptop in my backpack and my air travel bag. up one flight of stairs over a bridge, then down. made the train, which was all i cared about so whatever.

Train 2: it's a Virgin train, so i'm pretty psyched. Their planes are awesome and i'm looking forward to the ride being smooth like butter. i get on and the luggage rack is full so i go find an attendant (whacking everyone in the aisle as i walk by with my huge suitcase- i was that person) and he takes my suitcase. i go to follow him and he ever so politley informs me that i've got a standard class ticket and my suitcase is in first class so i cant go in there. i got the hand from a skinny pimply bellcap in a red uniform with the worst hat ever - how degrading!
i go back to the poor people section worrying about my bag and find a seat next to some crazy goth guy who's pissed i won't sit somewhere else but i can't ride backwards so i can't take the other available seats. virgin trains suck! the ride is all bumpy so i'm breaking out in a sweat and feeling ill, but i can't get to my motion sickness pills because they're in first class with the rich people. also, it smells like poo. i can't figure out if it's someone near me, if someone took the mother of all dumps or there's a baby around who has poopy pants or what, but it smells and it's making me iller. (i would later be informed that somehow in the virgin train design process there was an oversight and the air vent from the train pumps out from the near the bathroom's vent duct) so that ride ends, and i get to the last platform.

train 3: delayed. no reason, no eta, no snack shack on the platform, no f'ing nothing. just me, my giant stupid bag collection, and some oh so fashionable french girl who thinks it's funny that i've changed into my comfy shoes with my work outfit. i think. i don't know for sure if she was laughing at me but i didn't care. she seemed like she was, but perhaps i was oversensitive, so i didn't share the little bit of french i knew with her because i wasn't ready to be a total griswald. the train board shows that the train will be an hour late but some little bellhop twirp is running around saying it will be earlier so it's a toss up. it shows up 30 minutes late but better late than never right? on the plus side, i had time to dig out my motion sickness pills, which ruled because the next train was also virgin and smelled like poo.

i finally made it to stockport at 1130 pm (4+ hours after leaving cambridge), WHACK my head trying to get my luggage off the stupid rack, but i dont care because i'm off the train for good and finally at the place. by some divine intervention martin is waiting on the platform RIGHT where my car lands, takes my bag, tells me he's got 3lbs of chocolate waiting for me at home. i'm dancing on the inside, stockport totally rules so far. SO FAR.

get home, kick back with mart and his girl for a couple of hours watching some whack ass brit tv shows and have some fantastic snacks. there's chocolate, there's cheese balls, there's chips in flavors i've never even heard about. awe-some. going to bed i feel a little funny, but i'm thinking it must still be the train sickness, or the pill, or something innocuous. little did i know...then i vomit up my snacks and my lunch, which was weird because i ate the lunch part like 12 hours ago so i'm thinking it ought to have been gone by now. but anyway i felt better after so i decided not to worry too much about it. denial is a lovely place, however i was not welcome to stay long.

wake up in the middle of the night, i'm sweating like a marathoner and thinking "uh oh, this can't be good" but i was able to get back to sleep. tummy's a little rumbly though. uh oh indeed.
i wake up at 9 am, and i wake up ILL. i've got serious issues. this is not good. i've come to stockport to see a football match but between puking and "the other end" i can't stay out of the bathroom for more than 15 minutes at a time. i'm trying to be positive, thinking maybe it will pass - maybe i was REALLY train sick- but it didn't. i go up for breakfast and martin and caz start coming round and waking up and making sandiwiches with weird giant bacon and they notice i'm sort of green and shiny and keep leaving the room so they ask if i'm ok. i told them no, then went off to vomit. when i came back up i had some toast, and then promptly threw it up again. as far as foods to throw up, toast is a bad one. puke, other end, puke, other end. that's how i spent my morning. i get uninvited to the pre game, martin tells me to go back to bed for a few hours and they'll come back to get me. i couldn't be happier to comply so i run back to the bathroom to puke and then pass out. i'm officially the worst guest ever. i wake up 2 hours later and come upstairs to find martin who has SKIPPED his pre game to make sure i don't die and i feel even worse- physically and like now "seriously im the worst guest ever". he takes one look at me, and offers to skip the whole match and stay with me, since clearly i'm not going anywhere. i convince him to go 1)because i can't in good conscience let him miss his favorite thing to do, and 2) because i'm being violently ill and i'm totally mortified that he can hear me calling ralph on the big white phone, not to mention "the other end"

Nurse Martin subscribes to the "if you don't know what to get, get one of everything" philosophy. I like it.

i spent my day doing more of the same. napping, sweating, and puking. ugh.
it's 7pm i just woke up and i'm feeling slightly more human. i look like i've been through a war, i think i've lost 20 lbs today and not that i would go anywhere if i could but i'm locked in the house. martin's door is very old so he has this weird skeleton key thing that he has to take with him so he had to lock me in. it's cool, there's really nowhere i feel like going anyway but it feels funny and i can't figure out how to work the windows. he also just called to tell me that they would come home if i wanted them to, but stockport has just played their best game in ages, they've broken like 3 of their club records and there's a giant party happening. so instead of coming to stockport to see the best game ever, i've gotten a tour of 3 places: the shitter, the couch and the train station. go england.