trvlgs

In Montana, the land of gold and silver, people still wear t-shirts with Cartman screaming about cheesy poofs etc. The city of Billings is a flat and desolated crackhead of a town with an abandoned movie theater on every corner and sidewalks littered with wandering flyers from the seventies probably. The Greyhound station is dark brown and cozy; the P.A. system was down, quite fittingly. The Cartman-clad announcer just yelled out the bus times and everyone listened. I plugged my ever-dying cellphone into an outlet and kept it in the pocket of hoodie and thought to myself that this would make a nice and unsubtle image in a film that’s trying to make a point about technology. I avoid eye contact with the old man and the girl up front. It’s midnight, and for the first time in months, that felt late.