Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit

Another gray and rainy day in Glasgow.

Last night was my first proper night out with some of the girls from my hall (a flatmate and upstairs neighbor). It was a really good time and as a byproduct of our scouting for a bar to go to, I got to see the city center for the first time. We walked down part of Sauchiehall Street (which reminds me slightly of South St., catering largely it seems to the undergrad party scene) before deciding on a Bath St. bar, having heard that the bars on Bath were a bit more chill and with an older (as in, 20s, not 40s) crowd.

I also learned that no matter where you go, what country you're in, you're guaranteed to hear Journey in a bar. I can't decide if this is disappointing or strangely comforting.

Most importantly though, I think I'm going to go through jeans like toilet paper here. The jeans I wore yesterday are already completely ripped and frayed on the bottom, encrusted with mud and rain. Walking everywhere (two miles round trip to groceries, two miles round trip to bars, two miles round trip to campus) is not kind to pants that are slightly longer than they should be! This probably serves me right for being vain and not owning up to my shortness in the first place. From now on, short length jeans only!

Dear parents,

Camp is good. Please send denim.

Love,

Me