Dateline: 12:26 05 Sep 1996
Location: Hässleholm-Stockholm, IC 38 
Strange as it seems, this is my last train journey on this trek.  But I shall not start shedding any tears yet; a grueling 6 hours await me, on what is, to my great surprise, the shittiest day train I've taken yet.  The seats are proportioned like and about as comfortable as airplane seats, only they're facing the wrong way.   Wien-Ljubljana as was long, but I suspect the scenery will be no match this time around.  So I shall sit here and grind away at my rubbery gummi bears, and see if the granny next to me will grok my pathetic attempts at "Jag inte talar svenska" this time around.

Granny shipped out so now I have the bench to myself, but this trip remains truly excruciatingly boring.  I'm not even halfway there yet, but I am already entirely sick of flat Swedish pastoral landscape, with the miserable little village or scattered here or there between the cows.  I want to get to a hostel with a warm shower and a nice bed, but 3 hours remaind.  Aaaaiggh!  Perhaps I should have opted for a 2nd couchette in a row, but I feel fucked up enough as it is.

Things I did not bring but should have: Things I did bring but should've have:
I recall that I have driven by car by exactly the same route, Helsingborg-Stockholm, and that the ride with all its Pongköpings and Pingköpongs seemed equally interminable then.  [As it later turned out, on next year's Love Parade trip I was to drive through the same route yet again, by bus for a change. -ed]  But somehow the hours have whiled away in meditation, munching and musing, plus attempting to eavesdrop on the two garrulous Finns a few cars back -- this is more difficult than it seems, because only one of them talks loud enough for comprehension, and she's the active listener ("Yes! Yes! Right! Exactly!") of the two.  My back hurts, yesterday's couchette (once again designed for people at least one meter shorter than me) was lethal.

The day's budget 
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