You could’ve come as a student and stayed in hostels and gotten drunk on red wine with greasy delicious strangers, but instead you are dragging along with you a disappointing middle-aged dope like an unwieldy, oversized suitcase without wheels. He has nothing to say, you can see that now. He tries to make up for it by reading street signs out loud in a cheerful voice, like some kind of confused half-wit. He is such a nerd and he’s wearing—is that a golf shirt?
