I tried not to lean against anything. Leaning, I Feared, would give the wrong impression. It could seem too casual. Sitting was also not an option. I also did my level best not to make eye contact. This was harder than it sounds. When you are surrounded by people with dentition that resembles broken picket fences and forearms adorned with jail house style tattoos (some apparently made by carving shapes into the skin then pouring India ink into the wound) it's very difficult to look anywhere other than their eyes. Fear causes this. The place was peopled by extras from "Hells Angels on Wheels" and every bad prison movie ever made. This woman kept bumping into me. She was medium height, slender, had long brown hair and three teeth. Her face looked a little like it had caught fire and some caring person had tried to put it out with an ax. Every time we collided I apologized nervously and she walked away. From behind she could have been Miss America. I swear.

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