Hardly any room to move, let alone breathe.The train pulls into the station and the crowd starts to shuffle towards the doors. I can see it’s alread... pretty full through the blurred steam covered windows, but I’m sure I can squeeze on. I hope. The doors open and a handful of people try to get off, pushing and jostling their way out of the train, and then we all push and jostle in. The carriage smells damp and feels really humid.“Excuse me, can you move along? I’m trying to get on” I say to a. I have never been in trouble with the law. No speeding tickets or axe murders, nothing. They let me have a phone call so I called Lynn.“Hi Paul! Where are you?” Good old caller ID.“Hi honey, I am in jail.”CricketCricketCricketThe silence was deafening. I was weaving as I stood at the desk with the phone. I was not sure that I could maintain this cool exterior of being stone cold sober. (Like anyone who is drunk on their ass can do). Lynn knew from my voice that I was first, drunk, and second. More

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