Problems of the Young Urban Male

My current apartment is close, I mean incredibly close, to a well stocked grocery store. As such, I rarely keep very much food in my apartment, but rather buy things as I need them. As a result, I find myself spending, comparably, an incredible amount of time in the grocery store. So much actually, I've abandoned my old ways of having a list to shop with, I feel like such a pro, I just wing it now. Quite often however, once through the turnstile (I never grab a cart or basket, to discourage compulsively buying more than I can carry), I realize I have no idea what I'm looking for.
Panic typically sets in after I've done 2-3 laps around the store, somewhere between bread and dairy. You see, a grocery store isn't like say, a clothing store, or a gun store, where you can browse with the option of not buying. If you're in there, you're buying something, the only way out is through the cashier.
"Eff sake," I say to myself, "People are staring. Just pick something up for Christ sake." So I go to my safety item, milk. Immediately after, I feel better. Even though I still have no idea what to buy, no one thinks I'm crazy for wandering back and forth all over the store, they just think I'm trying to find something to go with my milk.

Hey I think the reality cart just rattled by.

Recently I developed an interest in travelling by train. To explore this interest I decided to turn what would have been a few hour flight from Winnipeg to Montreal, into 15 grand hours of travel, starting from the time I was dropped off at the Winnipeg airport, to the time that I staggered through my apartment door in Montreal.
I rode in the first class train car, so naturally the perks were endless. Because I had to catch a connecting train at the Toronto Union Station, I was eligible for 2 separate meals. There were free alcoholic beverages in first class, and frankly, I can't imagine how over 8 hours on a train would be possible were it not for delicious Dry Gin and her sidekick, Tonic. The legroom was really something of an amazement to me, and I made certain to mention it to everyone sitting in my row, on every leg of the trip.
So after a day that included about 7 cups of coffee, 2 beer, 3 Gin n' Tonics, 5 glasses of red wine, and 1 after-dinner Grand Marnier, I found myself in train's washroom. The rocking of the train as it jumbled down the track stifled my accuracy. They did have handles to hold on to (presumably a first-class only feature) but I thought them to be for amateurs. An especially large jolt caused me to crack my knee on the toilet as I was washing my hands, but I only laughed, and thought about how much more it would have hurt had I not been drinking since 11:00 am.
All in all, I'm glad to have experienced it, but I'd say the clickety-clack could pretty much go fuck itself for all I care.