Journeys in Scotland: The Quest for Connery

Spoiler Alert: I didn't find him.
It's been awhile since I wrote on this thing (I've been busy having little baby heart attacks over my project) so let's do a little recap:

When we last left our hero (Me. Enough with the attitude, I'm very heroic.) he was stranded in a train that was on a busted track, rolling along the English countryside at 20 miles per hour with no end in sight... the story continues.

We arrived in Edinburgh (pronounced in the local dialect as Edinbuhhhhhhhhhgggaah) at 5AM, or 12AM Eastern Standard Time, or "Dear-Christ-is-that-the-SUN"o'clock in the morning. Our transportation, a disgruntled bus driver, said something along the lines of "Doogleficknanniefin eh?" which roughly translates to "Do you all want me to pick you up at 10AM?" and then promptly drove through the streets of Edinburgh to our hostel.

     


                                        Which was a little like this:








                                                             Except worse.

My friend and I stayed in this little room furnished without soap or hope, where you had to go out into a communal bathroom in the corridor. It was there I had my first experience with an airplane bathroom, because I'm pretty sure that's what it actually was. You walk into this little closet o' poopies and hope the Scottish kid in there before you with the goofy smile on his face didn't forget to-OH MY GOD HE DID. HE FORGOT.
[Note to my readers: The cuteness of little kids with accents gets old the 83rd damn time they're running down the hall yelling at 11PM.]

So, after trying to catch up on sleep in the HOSTILE, we jumped on the bus and went to Edinburgh... for two days. But that's for next time.