I’m on a bus!
For 13 euros I’m traveling 308 km (or 191 miles) from Paris to Brussels. There I’ll try out my new shoes at the city’s premier Marathon.
My shoes are Hulk shoes. I hope I don’t make them angry. I wouldn’t want to run in them angry.
There was an instruction card with the shoes. I’m walking around in them trying to break them in, thus apparently voiding the warranty as I’m using them for a purpose other than running. Europe is weird.
This morning I wasn’t sure what my food options might be on this trip (and I’m unclear if we are even stopping once the wheels on the bus go round and round). Thus I was glad to see a commercial centre attached to the bus depot. Auchon, which I always think of as a French Wal-Mart, had me zip tie my bags’ zippers to prevent shoplifting. Thankfully they had wire cutters when I left or I’d still be sealed tight.
I hemmed and hawed over food options and ultimately went with a high caloric pasta salad and emergency cookies. Both were on quick sale reduced prices; the cookies cost more than the salad.
I went with this particular salad because 1) the price and 2) it came with a fork… plus a supervillain vial of salad dressing. I felt like I held the antivirus of some world domination plague. It was sadly (or maybe not so sadly) simply middling balsamic vinaigrette. No, middling balsamic vinaigrette IS sad. #SadSaladDressing.
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This may be part one of two blog entries … or maybe this is all I say on the bus. It could be a super boring 3.5 hour ride. Or it could be the stuff of traveling legend. You never know out here on the road what kind of day it’s going to be; you really only know what kind of day it’s been.