The glue

I went for a walk in Freemantle town yesterday evening and visited the local Seaman’s club. 

I will pause the telling of this story for a while to give you immature little piglets some time to laugh it up, because I know what you're thinking! But a seaman’s club is, in fact, not a fancy gay bar where the disco never dies, mustaches run wild and everyone is oiled up and ready to go. No, it’s a place where crew members can go and use telephones, internet, drink a beer and play some billiards. Some seamen have 9 month contracts and to be onboard for that long can drive anyone insane, so it’s very much appreciated to leave the ship and be somewhere else for a while. In many ports, like this one, the club is run by the church and people working there are volunteers. They also organize transport if you want to go somewhere, like a shopping mall or a restaurant and they give you a friendly smile and a pamphlet about the benefits of guilt and how you killed Jesus. I appreciate this service, I really do, but on the other hand they want some of us to have AIDS. So I dunno.

Ok back to the story. It was pitch dark and as I was walking past a doorway I heard a noise right next to me. I turned and there was a guy sniffing glue from a paper bag. But I was super cool and not scared at all.