THE LOLA BOYS ABROAD !

Paul alighted the train in southern Thailand and stepped into the coal black night. The heat was still fierce despite the late hour and he struggled with his rucksack across the tracks slipping unsurely on the rocky ballast beneath. There was nobody else and more importantly no platform in sight. He made his way back to the carraiges to make sure he was at his destination and was assured by the irritable guard who’d practically pushed him from the locomotive that it was definitely the town for which he’d been heading. He crossed the sleepers once again and gazed into the sleepy darkness. There was not a soul to ask for directions. The shadowy figure of a mystery animal, probably something canine, scampered away on his approach and then silence. 

Paul had not contemplated arriving so late and had imagined it would be easy to get his bearings. Unfortunately the Thai train had lived up to its reputation for tardiness and had nearly pulled into the station over three hours late. At least Paul assumed it was the station it was difficult to tell without a landmark – or a torch!

Suddenly there was a hoarse whistle, as if the engine itself was exhausted by the late schedule, and the train pulled away revealing, to Paul’s relief, a row of yellow lights about two hundred yards in the distance. It must be the platform Paul thought as he embarked on the perilous journey down the track towards civilisation. He only hoped that the Starlight Express wasn’t about to roar out of the darkness. Health and safety in this part of rural Thailand was obviously little considered. 

Eventually he made it onto the platform but not without a few scrapes and bruises. He thanked Buddha he wasn’t in his usual state after a long rail trip, that being entirely drunk, or he would never have made it! There were some plusses to being on the wagon, especially when being turfed out of one in the depth of night!

He made his way through the deserted building and onto the main road. Things were looking up. He could now espy two dogs and a crumpled shape which resembled a human attached limpet-like to a bench. It looked like at least someone had survived the apocalypse which evidently must have occurred during Paul’s journey down from Bangkok. He wasn’t entirely alone.

The semi-conscious vagabond turned out to be of little help. Entirely inebriated and completely free of English, or any other language Paul could decipher. He hoisted his ruck sack higher onto his shoulders and headed down what appeared to be the Main Street. A long straight road of wooden shacks and boarded up shop fronts which looked like the dilapidated set of an old Western many years after the cameras had stopped rolling. It appeared Paul had rode into a no-horse town with two-bit coverage. There wasn’t even the silvery glimmer of an eastern moon to illuminate the action. And certainly no saloon into which he could stroll and shout for a Saspirilla. He was literally in the dark.

Andrew awoke on the long distance express train and squinted out of the window. The engine had stopped yet they appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. There was certainly no station to be espied through the jet curtain which draped across the tropical night. The train rumbled on. It was taking longer than expected but that was quite normal for inter-city trains in The Land Of Smiles. A Thai train trip quite often wiped the grin from one’s face. He was on his way to meet Paul. They had recently spent some time apart and now they were to rekindle the embers which had smouldered between them for more than thirty years. Despite occasionally missing his partner, Andrew knew himself well enough to know some time alone was essential. They were, after all, two separate entities despite sharing a double act and a double bed. He only wished Paul felt more like he did but he suspected his partner was not so keen on solo time. He was a touch more gregarious and there were moments he needed an audience. This was occasionally wearing, but of course he had his good points too. 

Andrew glanced at his mobile phone on which he’d been following his interminable journey. To his horror the blue dot signifying the train he was on had jumped to the bottom of the screen and was now steadily moving south towards Malaysia. It was clear he’d missed his stop. It appeared they had not been in the middle of nowhere at all. It had been the somewhere to which he was heading. He jumped from the berth and went in search of some information. After accosting a guard with limited English, he asked in a Thai accent when the train would next pull into a station. He always  adopted the sound of broken English when attempting to communicate with foreigners. It was a habit his partner found most amusing. But Paul wasn’t with him to take the piss. He was probably lounging atop a semi-comfortable mattress by now contemplating the whereabouts of his spouse,  not stuck on a train going in the wrong direction. Three hours later, after the engine had snaked for miles along the Burmese border, the carriages came to a juddery halt and Andrew alighted into the dark. He had no idea where he was, only that he was not supposed to be there. He reached for his phone for guidance but it too had suffered on the extended journey and was now completely powerless. Andrew felt much the same and to worsen matters he realised he was also quite lost.

Paul was definitely lost. 

And not just geographically. 

Ever since he and Andrew had been stranded in the Philippines, due to that damned virus, he had gradually become more and more marooned on his own island. His career, if one could call it that, had careered off course.  He felt his partner venturing off  in another direction and he couldn’t even find the switch for the headlights. He’d settle for a road trip to no-where but having lost the proverbial car keys he couldn’t even start the ignition. 

His battery was most definitely flat! 

He was pushing himself further and further into the unknown hoping he’d recognise a sign post but the route was an enigma. A magical mystery tour minus both the magic and the mystery. He was stuck on life’s hard shoulder. It was an uncomfortable position. But he knew t’was only a pit stop. He would have to drive on. Change a tyre. Self pity was the most unflattering of characteristics and needed puncturing, plus he had an ego which ached to be admired. Feeling sorry for oneself was not good for the image he’d cultivated. He was nothing if not honest. Especially with himself. It was a virtue which had got him into trouble in the past. He knew to some he was a complete disappointment but at least he was brave enough to be himself. Almost. Even if he wasn’t completely sure who that self was anymore. Everybody lost their way at some point. Well they did if they were taking the road less travelled and that was the only way Paul was going. Even if he did hit a cul de sac now and then and was forced to use dreadful motoring cliches whilst blogging. He was definitely at a crossroads.

Literally!

He looked in every direction and could see nothing but darkness. It was amazing how the night served as a black canvass for one’s depressive expressionism, when at other times she was ablaze with optimism and coloured light. He knew Churchill had suffered the same malaise in his darker moments, labelling the emotion his ‘Black Dog’. Paul only wished he hadn’t agreed to pet sit.  The same ravenous hound had been gnawing at him for some time now and as far as he was concerned Sir Winston could have the mutt back. He wondered in which direction he would find the light. He let go of the lead and attempted to kick the callous cur to the kerb. He was searching for some light. He knew it was out there somewhere.

Andrew had managed to get himself to the only hotel in town. He’d almost killed himself struggling across a busy highway in the darkness as he dragged his huge  fake designer suitcase behind him. It was a large empty establishment inexplicably guarded by a giant fibre glass kangaroo. The mammoth marsupial was obviously not the only one feeling jumpy as the creature at reception had sent him as far away as possible. All the way to the top floor. Despite the fact there was no elevator or another guest in sight. Quite exhausted from his marathon hike from the station he just about managed the steep ascent to his room. Later, as he lay listening to a dog howling ferociously into the deathly silent night, he suspected Paul’s journey had been somewhat easier. His partner was rather anal when it came to travel, awash with baby wipes and remedies for the road and far more unlikely to end up in the wrong town. Let alone forced to wander the shadowy streets of a steamy night. Not unless he chose to of course. Which had been known.

Andrew had no idea he was barking up the wrong tree.

For he and Paul were both ships adrift in that vast inky ocean of the small hours.

Or rather they were locomotives passing in the night.

Off track.

Train-wrecked.

With one of them so very desperate to be rescued……