After a long, but gorgeous train ride we arrive in Inverness. Alright, we all knew it was coming, enter the haggis! The best meal yet. No joke, haggis is pretty tasty. No offense to the English, but your food makes me feel like I'm an inmate. It's kind of a punishment considering how much it costs. However, the food in Scotland is a real treat. Cheers Scots! We hit up the art museum which was rather small, but quality is definitely over quantity at this place. Fantastic bronze sculptures, very fluid in movement and surely nothing to scoff at. Also included in the museum were a collection of man made insects. That is to say that this artist had assembled her own replicas of beetles, moths, stick bugs and so on out of twigs and leaves and nuts. It was impressive to say the least, very detailed and fooled me at first. I thought we had stumbled into some sort of biology museum but upon a closer look I noticed the intricacy of them all. Brilliant!
So we returned home, but it was no ordinary trip back to Sterling. We were sat right behind a Scottish navy man on leave from his submarine. This guy had 3 small bottles of vodka (sold on the train) three beers (also sold on the train) and a shot of whiskey (notice the trend.) Eventually he was spitting out sentence fragments all embellished with a nice layer of f-bombs. Example: "You're f-ing dumb, you're f-ing American and if you say anything else I'll knock you in the f-ing jaw!" This guy made an ass of himself insulting every possible country. No one was safe from this guy's criticism, even Scots. Warning: if you run into John from the Scottish navy and you happen to be English, American, German, French, Irish, Polish, etc... he will "knock you in the fuckin' jaw!" (what a jackass, but an entertaining jackass at that.)
Unfortunately when we reached Sterling Patch and Josh didn't quite make it off the train. So I looked back expecting to see my buds I saw the door closing in front of Patch's wide eyed face. I just shook my head, cussed and started back to the hostel. I decided to watch a movie while I waited for my mates to return and low and behold, the hostel had Akira. Yeah!!! I was joined by Patrick a.k.a. Canadia a.k.a. Cah-Nay-Dah. We enjoyed this animated gore and insanity over pizza and strongbow. But the night was young so after Patch and Josh returned Patch, Canadia, and I headed out to the pub. Here we downed a couple while comparing America and Canada (not much fun for us) and later ran into some older Scotsmen. I would have an easier time understanding a Chinese man with a wet towel over his mouth than an older drunken Scotsman. But they were jovial and great nonetheless. When we told them we were from Tennessee one man hummed dueling banjos and the other sang Davey Crockett. So once again, the night came to an end. Sorry, no photographic evidence this time.