august 18 2024

We’re on a train to Belgium and Ben tells us a story from his life that is so funny and diabolical but I promise him I won’t post it so I don’t. What happens on tour, stays on tour. What I can say, though, is that even the random girl sitting in the seat next to us is laughing. She is crocheting something that looks like a glove and chuckling to herself.

We arrive in Brussels and the aggro vibes begin immediately. I don’t know what it is with this fucking place but it feels like everyone is just angry all the time.

We get into a taxi to take us into the city and the taxi driver yells at Ben because he pulled out Google Maps to track the drive. We go somewhere to eat and the waiter snaps at Darcy because he tried to order first and apparently it’s “ladies first.” Last year, at the Brussel-Centraal train station, a woman came up to me to tell me she liked my nails then tried to steal my cell phone in broad daylight.

“What the fuck is everyone’s problem?” I ask as I munch on wet fries.

“They have to live in Brussels,” Ben says.

The shows really do go crazy out here but damn.

When we finally get to the airport hotel, I don’t sleep properly. I keep having nightmarish visions of hordes of people running and screaming. In my dreams, something terrible has happened and I don’t know what but I am afraid. Later, I find out that there was a terrorist attack at this airport in 2016. I shiver and peek outside my hotel room window. All I see is a mural of human bodies spiralling up, towards the sky. 

At 7AM, groggy and exhausted, I head down to get breakfast. The hotel worker manning the area taps me on my shoulder, not smiling. She tells me that I’m using the wrong cup to fill up my tea.