After a slightly harrowing walk through the streets of Glasgow late at night, we found the train station. I had begun my epic journey there way back in June, so it was relatively easy to find. The central train station is large, built of gray stone, of course, with a creepy clock and angular trim; it is pretty frightening when you come around a corner in the dark, and Megan laughed when she saw it.
Relatively silly at this point out of exhaustion, we took the train to the airport. I expected to have problems all along the way, but my plan actually worked, which is always a surprise.
We slept in the airport, woke up early, and went through security, where I drank an enormous cup of coffee.
It was around six a.m., and men of all ages were sitting in the bar, wearing kilts (and one group had on plastic horned hats) and drinking beer. Megan claims that this is the origin of American rednecks.
I almost forgot about the guy wearing a kilt and a cowboy hat. Since he was Scottish, I am not sure what he thought he was doing. Maybe he is going to Texas.
There is nothing wrong with drinking beer at 6:00AM... if you've already been away 12 hours.
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