2001-04-30

I hate Sundays. Why should a Sunday in Edinburgh be any different?

I woke up feeling fine. Not the least bit hung-over. I should have known I was being set up for something far worse.

Susan and I had breakfast. It was her turn to give me shit. I told her about my �problem�. She said I had no balls. I said, �I just shaved my legs. Anything can happen.�

The weather was shit (hmmmm...there's that word again), but it being Scotland, one really can�t complain. The train ride to Glasgow was uneventful. I called Ben from there to let him know I was on my way, and resisted any urges I had to go exploring instead of getting on a train to Edinburgh. When I did get back, I walked from the station even though it was raining. I needed to in order to get my bearings. Just following Ben around wasn�t getting me anywhere.

I was hungry. I should have gotten a potato. Shit, I should have gone anywhere other than Piemaker. I thought I was getting a totally benign vegetable pie. I was wrong. So very wrong.

After I got back we went out. The plan was to hit the Fruitmarket Gallery and then go buy food for Gina�s birthday dinner. I liked the gallery. I liked most of what I saw there. Please don�t ask me to write about art, it�s beyond my abilities. The artist�s name is Tracy Moffat and she�s Australian. If I can find some info I�ll put a link here.

We went to the caf� and had some hot chocolate. WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING? I wasn�t thinking. I thought I was hot shit �cause I�d come away from the night before without a hangover. Well, thanks to that pie and that hot chocolate, there was plenty of hot shit in my future.

I did have a nice time at that caf�, talking with Ben about his publishing prospects and concerns. And even the lack of black beany goodness at Sainsburys didn�t bother me all that much. (I thought fajitas would be good for dinner and I think they turned out well, although I didn�t cook or eat any) I spent the evening being severely ill. At a party where people are supposed to be having fun and not asking me if I�m ok every few minutes. I did eat two plain tortillas. (the arrival of flour tortillas to Scotland is a joyous thing, however they still have a ways to go in the Mexican food department.)

I should have just left. I don�t know. It was fun up to a point. Of course someone mentioned games. You know how I feel about games. To me, games are the death of any good time. Eventually my eyes just sort of glazed over. So I figure I lost at least 5 pounds in the course of a few hours. I even got the shakes. It was great.

Gina certainly didn�t need sick me around for her birthday. But being sick may have shielded me from ridicule. This Australian girl got no end of shit. I just looked at her like �I�m next, aren�t I?�

One other thing: My propensity to start any audible thought process with the phrase �I don�t know�. All that means is that I�m gearing up to think it through, not that I refuse to think about it or form an opinion. I�m not sure if Ben got that about me. Oh well.

I walked back with Ben and his flatmate Johnny. Johnny�s friend in the US sent him a Bush 2000 button. I�m going to send him my African Americans for Al Gore button. If he�s going to mock my country he should at least be fair about it, right?

So anyway, on the way back this seriously drunk man stumbled up to us and said in the most amazingly gay American accent �are you guys Scottish??� He needed directions somewhere. Back to where he lived or something. Ben told him that he and Johnny were English and then I cut in and said I was from Canada. He was from Boston. He didn�t sound like it. Shit. God only knows where this guy came from. So he got me talking aboot Canada. I told him I was from Vancouver. He said he�d been there. I was like �oh, did you go skiing?� He said no and then refused to mention what he�d done there. He also said he wasn�t gay, if that�s what we were thinking. Um, hellooooo, he was gay. He also said that he would walk through the Meadows to get home. Ben and Johnny tried very hard to discourage him from that and tried to get him to take a taxi. Oh, and to stop walking in the middle of the road. I was so glad when we got away from him. Ben said I was a pretty good bull-shit artist. It�s not that I�m not proud to be an American. I just didn�t feel like dealing with Americans abroad. That�s not fun.

When we got back I took two benadryl on a totally empty system. Sleep. Good. Food. Bad.

So at that point I was half way through my vacation. I'd had four days to have fun and think about my problem and what to do about it. I'd also had four days, well, almost three to get to know Ben a little better and form a more complete picture/opinion of him and our friendship. I wasn't feeling anything. I was almost prepared to let the whole thing go.

But at the same time I was feeling great about being in Scotland. It's really very beautiful. The people are wonderful. But I'm not going back without a few bags of black beans.

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