Belgium hangover trip

As I boarded the sleeper to Madrid, the drugs had begun to wear off. Reality was rapidly coming back with a force that resembled a slap across my face. After an almost surreal conversation with a crazy old geezer waiting at the concourse of the small railway station for something (perhaps his kid), I had decided that me and madness we’re through for the moment. But the return to reality was becoming more abrupt and painfull than whatever I had thought of . The effects of a hangover from a multi-drug binge can be a heavy one. It is not like feeling as if you have to digest a brick, or the pains of a going into some sort of a detox shock. No.The burden is psychological. You feel down. Out of energy. Angry. Grumpy all the time.. You need a way to get fixed. You need sleep. So I slept. I slept all the way into town. As if tomorrow there would be no chance of rest for wicked souls like mine. I woke up half jaded as the train approached the Chanmartin Station. I left my bags there, along with some of the food, and went to downtown Madrid to find a way to spend the next eight to twelve hours. This proved without any effort, and the next thing I knew, night time had arrived again, and I was ready to enter the takos of terminal four to board my Virgin Express flight to Brussels. The journey tourned boringly uneventful, in the way only trips with low-cost carriers can be. Nothing to do nowhere to go, yadda yadda. Pay per can alcohol. No sleep ‘till Brussels.Left turn to see the lights of Bordeaux. Then head-on to Belgium. Hurrray!. Finally arriving at Brussels at slightly before 11 in the night, I was happy to find that the I had narrowly made it to the last train into Ghent-St Peters station. Then it was an hout and a half of train journey in the middle of a pitch-dark night….