trainsliteration

oh to be off the train, yet i still haven't loosed its remnants from my system. i still catch myself rocking about at times like a consistently did for ninety six hours of my life. i succesfully broke my record for travel distance in one swoop. the last was three days spent on a greyhound bus from portland to new orleans, this was four days from ulanbataar to moscow. at one point we found ourselves in the dining cart(see picture) and we were soon surrounded by amicable but persuasive russians and mongolians. they bought bottle after bottle of vodka. i didn't keep track of how many times we shot a drink, but it was plenty. after a while i was cheersing to ghengis khan too the delight of the mongolians, who gave me mongolian money and ordered me two beers at once. eventually i escaped, after four more shots coupled with that feeling of danger i knew i had to dissapear if was going to survive the train. the next day i spent attempting to keep care of the hangover and vowed never to go into the dining cart again. someone stole our own personal cache of vodka from our cabin while we were out, which was just as well, we suspected our sneaky neighbor. now i am in moscow, i am told the police will fine you for bueracratic reasons, i spent the day walking around and attempting to look very serious and russian so as not to be stopped, it worked well enough. they have face control here at the bars and clubs, meaning, you are not allowed to go in if you are unnatractive, unkempt, or don't appear rich. we got denied a few places and given a rather dubious table in a bad part of a sports bar. its alright i still find myself attractive enough, even if the russian bouncers don't