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@*Matt*
Moscow. 2011.
A week heavy on the balitikas and metaxa 3 star had its wicked way on my IBS wretched guts.
After a particularly gruelling come down we made it to Moscow central train station for the 8 hour over night train to St. Peterburgs.
I finally rustled the courage for a beer at the station before we boarded. 1 turned into 3 and we were pissed. Joking about. Tears of laughter between us reminiscing about the weeks antics.
I laugh. Turtle head.
Running to the toilet I let out an almighty torrent of acrid abuse on the porcelain.
The metaxa.
Bout over, I reach for the paper roll.
No loo roll. Anywhere. Our train is boarding.
I whip off my boxers. Wipe.
There's no bin to dispose of the crime. Behind the u bend they go.
I run to the train and spend the next 8 hours sans pants on an overnight train in July heat in jeans. Drinking trying not to shart. One sweaty arse