What can I, the worst/best night of the trip.

No rooms in Edinburgh last night and no rooms a way doon as far as Glasgow either. I made a reservation for the night in a burg outside of Glasgow, that’s as close as I could get.

Well, due to Edinburgh getting a triple hit (Scottish Cup final, a big marathon, and bank holiday) not only were there no rooms. But the influx of people put a strain on the train system, and subsequently there were delays. It was 45 min before I got a train out to Glasgow, to change for the burg (Johnstone); we were stuck out on the line for another 45 minutes and then I got jammed up in Glasgow. I called to confirm the room from Glasgow, but they’d cancelled my reservation, because I was not there when I said I’d be, and they let the room out to someone else. Now, I’m stuck in Glasgow at 1:00 a.m... .

Yeah, on the way down to Glasgow, the train was full of football sports revellers, Club People and just people partying because they didn’t have to work the next day; it reeked of beer and everyone was yelling, singing songs and stamping their feet. These people drink heavily, more than the Irish I’d wager! Sorry, I digressed.

Arriving, finally, in Glasgow, I thought: Well, I’ve done all that I can, I don’t know a soul, I can’t get a room; it’s also pouring, and freezing cold. So, I started to walk. On Price St., I went past a bar and there were a few people outside smoking (both cannabis and tobacco) and drinking. They seemed a friendly bunch, so asked if anyone knew of a B&B around; just on the odd chance that I may have missed something that only that locals knew. Some cute little Glasgow girl said “Noow, there’s a wee one doon the road, boot ats full oop!” Well, into the bar I figured; just to get warm and dry off a bit.

It was an open mike night thing and people were in there with their guitars ‘n stuff. I don’t have time to get into details but, one of the folks out front sent me a beer, and out of courtesy, I drank it. Well, two more Strongbow Stouts later, I ended up getting up to the mike with some guys guitar; nice old Gibby too. I said some shit about Mel Gibson and then Bush, whose name was booed loudly. Then out of nowhere I said; “I understand that William Wallace could shoot lightning bolts out of his arse. Well, that’s exactly where George Bush speaks from; his fookin arse, man!” The whole place went nuts, they loved it. I was from the U.S. and they like us here; they just hate our president.

Anyway, the ice broke. I was stalling because I didn’t know what to play, couldn’t even think of a song I knew. On the way down on the train, I remember at on point, while the people were stamping their feet, all the while, in my head, I was singing “The kids in Bristol are sharp as a pistol, when they do the Bristol Stomp! So I cut loose on that, foot stompin and all; they picked right up on it... For some strange reason, Celts love to stamp their feet; I think it has something to do with sitting in the bleachers at football and soccer games.

After that, I ended up playing: “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”, got an encore; and did, Buckets of Rain, got another encore, and played Black Velvet Band, and every one knew the chorus. Wow! These folks went insane; probably because I such a novelty, being from the U.S., soaking wet, and talking funny. Oh, and of course, because every person in the joint was very, VERY drunk! I could've farted the Star Spangled Banner and they would've loved it.

So now, it was closing time, and the owner of the bar said to me “Wait a few minutes, stay dry a while lad.”, and he locked the door and started tidying up, I went to help but he said their son does the rest in the morning time. Man, that place looked like a WWII bombed out Italian Villa. Then his wife came out and said, “I tried everything I could to find you a room, love, but there’s nowt a one. So, Daniel and me decided you can sleep on our couch, if you’d like.” So I did. I got about 2 hrs sleep and in the morning the son dropped me at Waverly train station.

Now, I am back on schedule for my train to London is at 5:30; about 2 and ½ hrs from now; I am ready to come home. Not hang dog though; if I were to die tomorrow, I’d die happy. It’s been a fantastic two months!

I arrive in London at 1:00 a.m., so the problem of accommodations once again presents it’s self. I must now try to nip that possibility in the bud, and try to book some place that’ll accept me at that hour. I’m on the plan home at 10:00 a.m tomorrow. Later.

p.s. Daniel & Nanci & Son: Thank you all so very much for everything. Use the email, please, please keep in touch! All the best.