The bus drives a mile and a mile to the bus station near the center of the one city of this county. You notice a empty park on the other side of the street. You collect your gear and go over there to finish the joint and calm your fragged nerves. Now the fear is gone the high is strong. You grin to yourself and sit on a park bench. Just chillin'. So glad to be out of that bus and over that terrible bridge. You leave the roach of the joint on the sticky pick nick table and you haul your gear to the Hotel room to check in for your free room and board. The air here smells acrid. There are no birds on the island what so ever.