Where's the Train?

I think I hear a train coming. It will arrive tomorrow morning right between my eyes. This is not a running story. This is a hangover in the making.
With some reluctance (why? because I wanted to read a book or pull weeds. Are you kidding?) I went to a New Year's Day (January 2nd) bowl game today. I had tickets but nobody to go with me. Mrs. T. had to work. West Point T. was on a plane back to WP. Youngest T. was rolling over in bed and not interested. So I went solo.
I parked downtown for free. Rode a shuttle to the game for free. Walked down a street next to the stadium and was hailed over to the side of the road to yack with a US Marshall. We saw each other at church on Christmas Eve. He introduced me to several other security specialists in their "casual wear" (no visible weapons) and then I was off to find a free pass to the hospitality village.
I found a man I know who gave me the one off his neck. Good man. I was in. In for a binge.
The village was a collection of corporate sponsored tents on the manicured grounds of the adjoining baseball stadium. I found a tent with some buddies I knew and had a decision to make....what to drink. I figured whatever I had would be my drink for the day.
Rum and tonic with a lime please.
That was the first of way too many. I had a little something to eat and wandered off to visit the other tents. The university bands marched in and played a short set of numbers while the cheerleaders and majorettes caught eyes.
I found my West Point son's best friend's dad, Jack, who is notorious for having a good time. I kept drinking. We talked with all the big shots and politicians. Then they all left for the game. It was close to kickoff.
I stayed with Jack and a handful of folks who had mastered the technique of keeping the hospitality village alive through halftime. We sorta watched the game on big plasma screen TVs in the tent while telling stories, harrassing the service staff who kept trying to tear down the bar and then throwing nerf footballs around in right field of the ballpark.
We missed halftime.
We did manage to go up to my seats on the 50 for the third quarter, had a polish sausage, peanuts and a beer; but right after the fourth quarter started we left, going our separate ways. I took the shuttle downtown and drove home. It wasn't until I got home that I realized I had ... uh, fallen off the training wagon.
So I slept/passed out until 830, got up and had some leftover Christmas dinner and here we are, waiting for the train.
I must go now. Nothing makes a train late better than a tall glass of water.
I have some 3x1mile and 3x800 repeats in the morning. Stay tuned for a head bashing report.