Sleeper Hit

It's almost midnight, I'm in Edinburgh and I have to be home for tomorrow. So that's no good is it? I walk to the station and catch an 'all you can sleep' express that gets in at 7am. Perfect. In the carraige the light is a dirty yellow, the air muted and heavy, whispered voices hush each other. I find my seat next to two girls who avoid all eye contact with me. We haven’t even started yet and I’m exhausted. The people around me, those lucky enough to sleep, travel in close comatose, a journey dissolved into nothingness, the rest of us just gaze out of the window at things we can't see. A train scatters its light through the window as it shoots past, clattering. I catch one of the girls staring at my screen. Get your own personality I think and shade my screen. Boring even myself, I go to the bar and get a two beers and a whisky, I split the cans with a girl in the bar coach and we sit there drinking, not saying much. By the time I get back to my seat those two girls have fallen asleep with their mouths open, one of them snoring in my ear. It’s not pretty. I don't manage to sleep that night, in case you're wondering. I spend seven hours in my own company, getting slowly drunk. By the time I arrive in the big smoke my tongue is furrier than my headrest and my body feels like it's been dragged through a cat backwards. Not those around me though. Chipper is the only word to describe them, it's like a scene from the Walton's, all 'good morning Jimmy!'s and 'how did you sleep?'s. I snarl at them to get out the way; the city is no place for pleasantries.