Shalain dropped me off in Lamy at about 1:30, and after the goodbyes, I found myself plopped down on the platform next to the tracks just as I had the year before on the way to Santa Barbara. It was a beautiful afternoon, as are most May afternoons in New Mexico, and as the train pulled in the realization that I was about to ride from the Southwest to New England set in, giving me a rush of adrenaline. Also adding to the intensity that this was the anniversary of the day Chris dropped me off near Ft. Morgan last year beginning all- that- was a very cool 2008. A good day to be hopping a cross- country Amtrak!
Once settled into my window seat for the 2pm pickup aboard the Southwest Chief to Chicago, I noticed that there was a film crew on board, in my car, shooting some sort of a movie. "39 Miles" was the working title, and I recall a distinct twinge of disgust as they proceeded to create this supposed electronic reality out of the limited view provided by the camera lens, and re- take after re- take! I kept picturing Bill O'Reilly as I watched all this! Keith Olbermann too...
The ride to Chicago was pretty through New Mexico and Colorado as usual, but uneventful. After the 24- hour ride and arriving in Chicago the next afternoon at around 3pm, I had six- hours to kill at Union Station. I took advantage of the lockers to lighten myself, and managed to walk around the block. That was about it. Growing up only a couple hours from Chicago, I've never been all that impressed with it, and don't get all the fuss. The Red Wings were up 2-0 in the Western Conference Finals against the Blackhawks, so I thought I'd wear my Wings cap to annoy the multitudes. Did it work? No one let on.
The Lakeshore Limited left at 9pm on Thursday for both New York and Boston. I learned that Albany, NY was where they would first separate, then add an engine to the back half of the train... taking that group of cars to NYC while we continued on unimpeded.
The ride through northern Indiana and extreme northern Ohio was quite nostalgic. Being raised just over the Michigan line, this is landscape embedded in my DNA. Oftentimes painfully. Although it was the middle of the night, I clearly recognized the roads and towns as the train sped along. South Bend. Elkhart. Goshen. Bryan. Defiance. Toledo. Defiance was particularly odd because that was where we had taken the "older kids" to buy us beer when Ohio's drinking age was 19. The wholesome, drunken, good ol' days.
We then litterally passed within spitting distance of Shelly's house which is in Delta, a little town between Bryan and Toledo. I caught myself thinking that THIS was where we, only a few days ago, were discussing me getting off the train. For all intents and purposes, THIS was also my destination. I could see it, yet I was training another 600 or 700 miles to get there! I loved that.
Once thru Toledo, I slept. All the way to Rochester, NY , then to Syracuse, and finally almost to Albany. Dammit! I missed Sandusky, Cleveland and Erie! I'm pretty sure Sandusky will appreciate my low- ket arrival and departure this time...
Past Albany, the Adirondack Mountains get intensely beautiful, and I immediately realized that I had made a wise decision. This WAS the type of country we'd missed down south, and I wanted to swim in it. Western Massachusettes was just as beautiful, with more lakes and rivers, as far as I could tell.
I hadn't met anyone of note on the entire train ride, which may have been my fault as I was introspective most of the time. However a couple of specimens quickly made themselves apparent after Albany.
The first was a uniformed soldier. I never spoke with him, but he was apparently on his way to or from Iraq. "How do you know this?", a perceptive reader may ask. It was easy, considering he kept reminding an attractive young lady of this fact... at every opportunity. For instance, while we were outside smoking (hush!) in Albany she mentioned "snowboarding boots." I then heard him say in a pathetic, over- amplified, "far- away" voice, "These boots have been to IRAQ... and they're gonna go... again." I wasn't sure what was worse: Him using that line, loudly, or that it was apparently working! A nice case of syphillis may do him some good.
The other character was even more pathetic, but in a sad, revolting way. I only spent the short time between Pittsfield and Springfield chatting with this pasty, red- haired, obese 20- something , and have long since forgotten her name. She was the poster child for why we should need a license to reproduce.
Immediately after she sat down, and without using the changing station provided, she decided to clean a good dose of #2 from her infant daughter, while the poor teenager she'd chosen to pin between her and the window had no choice but to watch. All the while, declaring that she was ready to "end all the pain" and go get "all fuckered up" Really, she said "fuckered up." After her poo- cleaning skills were properly displayed, she then said to this 17- year old kid, "Do you mind?" while actually holding her child out toward him... to hold for her! This teenage boy, luckily for her, was a good sport. He took the little girl, and successfully occupied her while Mother of the Year got it together.
Now, MY mistake was letting her bait me into a conversation. I knew better. But alas, I was suckered into hearing all about her "asshole boyfriend" who only "wicked fucks with her head", and how everyone is conspiring to take her child away "only" because she has "no job, real home, or no money", but only "right now". And, "Yeah, I used to be a crack head, but gave dat shit up."
She couldn't for the life of her understand why everyone was just out to get her. "They just don't understand the shit I been through and how hard it is!" Then came the suicide innuendo. That was the end of the conversation.
The train arrived in Springfield at about 6pm Friday. We had gotten a ticket for all the way to Boston, but getting off in Springfield quickly proved to be more practical. Chris was waiting for me in full backpack at the tracks when I got off, and after 11- days we were back at it.
I spent nearly 45- minuted arranging my pack and enjoying being off the train. Then, and out of the blue as we made our way toward Gus, we would quickly realize just how "back at it" we really were! Friday's story was far from over...
1 comment:
Way to leave us hanging... I know, you just want to make sure I come back to read more.
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