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About The Hague

So, I met this one chick—let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not? She’s workin’ the corner near my burn pit. Smells like smoke and regret, ya know? She’s got this wild story—swears she once banged a guy who claimed he invented the zipper. True? Prolly not, but I laughed my ass off. “You’re a real historian, huh?” I said, channin’ my inner Cronenberg sarcasm. She just winked, like, “I’ve seen worse than you, coal girl.”

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So, I’m fuming a bit, but whatever. I keep walking. I hit up the Pijnacker-Nootdorp train station. I’m waiting for my train to The Hague. I’m scrolling through my phone, and then I hear this loud commotion. Turns out, some dude is arguing with the ticket machine. Like, bro, it’s just a machine! Chill out! But he’s going off, yelling at it like it’s a person. I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who argues with a ticket machine?

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