Let the anxiety begin....

"How do you get to the train station?"

"You get on the bus, pay the nice man the three dollars it costs, and then get off it at the stop that says 'Train Station'"

"Oh. Ok, well, what do I do once I get there?"

"You get on the train."

"Well, yeah! But how do I know which train to get on?"

"You get on the one with 'Toronto' written on the side of it."

"Ok, but then how do I know when to get off?"

"When the person calls out that you are in Toronto, you get off the train. And then the person meeting you should be able to direct you back to the place he lives in."

"Ok, but what about my bags? What do I do with my bags?"

"I refuse to take this conversation any further and as of this minute, I'm vacating the premises we share in order to escape your insanity."

"YOU CAN'T LEAVE! I still don't know what to do with my bags!!"

Click. (That was the door shutting).

And now, my Anthropology textbook and I are staring at each other like we should be having some meaningful interaction, but I still don't know what I'm supposed to be doing with my bags while I sit on this train.

Clearly, a strong dose of Clonapin is in order.

Toonses