My plans to complete chapter 6 yesterday were shot in the ass by a windows update, and my spouses need to run errands by utilizing me to run the errands. 
I reviewed the dialogue for ch6 this morning and now it’s time to write the prose and marry it to the dialogue. Our boys arrive in Philadelphia and in the scene below, they walk through 30th Street Station.
Trigger Warning: Sorry fujos & mm-lovers, but gay men fart.
I’ve been there dozens of times, but I still use reference pics to refresh my memories. The best way to conquer describing interiors and locations is architecture books and interior design mags. I learned that from the editor who helped me with Femitokon.
Philadelphia – 30TH Street Station – there’s a sign for the Amtrak Police Department past the roman columns.
W: Whoa, this station has its own police department.
M: Yeah, I mean, it’s sitting on eight acres.
W: What’s that in square footage?
H: Almost five hundred thousand square feet.
A whirr of clicking startles Lubo as the split-flap board above displays new arrivals, tracks, and destinations.
L: Damn, they got one of those old-ass flip signs.
H: It’s called a Pragotron.
M: I thought it was called a Solari Board, after the Italian company that makes it.
W: The train station in Bratislava had the word Pragotron on theirs.
L: The only Solari I know is from that Amadeus movie.
M: That’s Anton Salieri, not Solari.
L: Whatever his name was, he was a nasty bitch.
Lubo takes pictures of the Cathedral ceilings, art deco lights, and architecture.
L: Why can’t Penn Station be this vogue?
H: Doesn’t get the same amount of traffic. All those destinations up there? That’s money in the bank.
They pass a large Christmas tree with a giant menorah nearby.
L: Aw, look, they got something for everyone. (To Wad) Take one of me and Honza, in front of the tree.
H: Why me?
L: Beauty and the beast pictures always work.
M: Oh my God.
H: Dissing me won’t make you pretty, Loob.
M: I’ll stand with you, Loob.
L: No. You’re too good-looking, Maxi Pad.
W: Youns need to work this shit out. I got to take a whizz.
H: Give it, I’ll take it.
Honza takes a picture of Max and Lubo in front of the tree.
The boys pass the Angel of the Resurrection statue.
W: That boy missing his taint.
L: This ain’t Rome, Wad. No taints allowed.
H: Angel gays were suave back in the thirties.
M: This was made in the fifties, but the artist definitely made it Bauhaus to match the station.
W: Bauhaus? The band?
M: No, dude, they were named after a nineteen-twenties art movement.
L: I’d kill to be gay in the late twenties.
W: Right? No one gave a shit back then.
H: Now, now, this sculpture is about salvation, and honoring Bela Lugosi’s death.
L: Nah, it’s about an angel hungry for some bussy.
M: Bussy?
W: Boy pussy. | H: Asshole, bro.
M: Oh my God.
H: He’s our God, too, you know.
L: You’re very possessive, Maxi Pad.
They enter the restroom, where Max and Loob step to the only two working urinals, and Wad and Honza enter the stalls.
Loob glances over at Max.
L: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. That thing could have a hand and fingers.
H and W laugh in their stalls.
M: Quit looking at my junk.
L: That’s not junk, son. That’s a baseball bat.
H: (FROM HIS STALL): Piss on him, Max.
L: Here, look at my clitoris. Now we’re even.
WAD passes gas in the stall.
H: Damn, Wad, give me time to duck and cover.
W: Stop, drop, and roll, Poliak.
L: Christ, you better wipe your ass after that one.
M: It sounded like an elephant on a moped.
H: Loob, riding a Harley.
L: Honza, you bitch (laughs), I’m going to drown you in that toilet bowl.
Guns, Guys, & Yaoi 2.0 