Loaded backpack, empty wallet
Getting off a train in Switzerland--tired, hungry...only have a traveller's cheque and banks are closed....aaagghh! ( pre ATM days, and in the era of traveller's cheques!)
Wandering through the quaint downtown, looking for the hostel, gazing hungrily at the shop windows of pretty pastries and oh! there! rotisserie chicken glistening and rotating behind the glass over yonder. The heavenly smell leads our noses across the way..
Emptying our pockets of lint, gum, train passes and coins, we scrounge just enough to buy one of those juicy birds. Hallelujah!
No time for niceties--we are starved. We pull up a curb around the corner from the chicken shop, and tear the delicious thing apart. Slick-with-chicken fat fingers and mouths go at the single small Swiss hen--meat greedily gulped here, bones tossed there.
There's nothing pretty about it: we look like the hobos we are, hunched over in a side alley devouring our catch.
Greasy fingers wiped off--the journey can continue. Chocolate and other Swiss delights will wait for another day.
