Buckle up, this post going to be a bumpy (though hopefully amusing) ride!
It's Friday - time for the great train ride! I'll be going from Stamford to Penn Station, and transferring to the Lake Shore Limited. That will take me upstate New York then straight west along the bottom of the great lakes to Illinois overnight. Coming into Chicago the next morning, I'll hang there for a few hours and get on the Empire Builder, and a mere 19 or 21 or 43 hours later, I'll be home. Well, in Saint Paul. But close enough!
I've been on my share of trains in other countries, and they're neat and all, but there is something super romantic and exciting and adventurous about a train journey in the United States. (tangent: An Irishman and a Texan were talking and the Texan bragged that you could get on a train and not get from one of the state to the other in less than two days - to which the Irishman said "So? Our trains are slow too!" Not sure why it's an Irishman.)
When I was little (like, 9 or less) my mother and aunt and I took the train (Empire Builder) to Chicago for a few days to visit their aunt. My great aunt. But we just called her Aunt Lil. (Oh! I just saw a connection - though Lily isn't named for my great aunt Lil, but partially for her great grandmother, my wife's grandmother, who was, of course, named Lil.)
I can see that this post is not going to be very focused. Already two paragraphs in and they're actually just short sentences followed by random stories and jokes. (I'm on a train, in my own space, I've eaten an actual meal, and the curtains are drawn. Mask off and there might be a little bit of Jameson to keep me and my luggage company. You're welcome.)
Back to my childhood.. I know I did that trip more than once, but the most memorable was when I was in fourth grade. Mom pulled me out of school for a couple days and I remember feeling quite conspiratorial, like I had just been legally truant! The train station was literally Midway between the Twin Cities in a new (then) building. It was like going to the airport, but without security. Or airplanes. The train was huge and impressive and had a very distinctive smell. It was the smell of train, add some actual cooking diner car, get everyone to smoke cigarettes, booze up half the breaths of the passengers, and maybe toss in some Old Lady Perfume for good measure. That assembled creates the magical scent you could only get on a train in the 1970's. Now you have to remove the actual food in the diner car and swap in microwave meals, take away the cigarettes altogether, and minimize the booze. But you know what? It still smells like train!
We would go to the diner car and eat on white tablecloths while all of the food and dishes rattled around, or we would go sit in the Vista Car and look at the scenery passing by in full color, 3D surround-sound. At one point the train stopped and there was an unidentified delay. I saw a guy running across a farmer's field and said "hey there is a guy running away from the train across that field" - to which everyone shushed the imaginative nine year old. Not five seconds later some adult genius says "Hey there is a guy running across that field" like it was brand new news or something. Anyway, I'm not exactly sure why he was doing that, but we had apparently hit someone and he was going for help? If you add two and round up then it's actually half a century ago, so some details may be fuzzy. So we end up waiting for a long time while they sort things out and my Mom got to explain what suicide was to me. But I remember it being a beautiful blue sky puffy clouded day in the Vista Car, so it was a fun tragedy or something. Later I was wandering the train like you would let a kid do unattended in the 70's (not that I'm about to Boomer Rant about how we used to eat asbestos and formaldehyde for snacks and *we* turned out ok. (But we did)) -- and we must have gone through a tunnel or something, because I didn't see the "stop here, don't go past this unless you work here" sign and wandered into what seemed like an office on a train. The guy from the field was there! Everyone turned to look at me and tell me to go back, I wasn't supposed to be there, etc. and I slunk back to my adults. That's about all I remember about the train, so it must have made an impression on me.
We ended up getting to Chicago just fine, and saw Aunt Lil. She told me about how she used to make gloves in a factory, how she had a daughter named Madonna (or Mona?) who had died when she was a teen or something - which felt like TMI for a nine year old, but there was a portrait on the wall, so.. We got to stay in an actual Chicago apartment, and I don't think I'd even been in an apartment like that before -- there was a back door! On an apartment! Leading to stairs and trash! It did not seem as glamourous as Bob Newhart's apartment, but it was the right city and that was enough for me. The trip was fine - we went to a German restaurant and Mom made me get milk with lunch and I wanted pop and the milk was gross. It's possible I just took the kids to the same restaurant a few years ago on one of our family trips. After all, how many German restaurants are there in Chicago, right? We passed some art that was car bumpers welded into the shape of a horse and Mom took a picture of me, bowl cut bangs and my fanciest nylon disco shirt (with snaps, not buttons) that had collars big enough they could just touch the tops of my shoulders. I loved that shirt. But it was a different time. We also took the bus, which was a disappointment after the "el" which seemed like a subway at times. I thought when you were in a subway you were supposed to be old jaded and cynical and not smile, so I put on my best apathy face. Mom thought I needed a hug and completely blew my cover as an authentic subway rider. But the bus was crowded and just like our buses, so it was annoying. And then mom got cross with Aunt Mary because we needed to go another three blocks -- but Mom called her out on it and she clarified that it was three "hundred (100 addresses) blocks" so that meant more like nine blocks. I'm almost done here, but my favorite moment and most seventies thing ever is my last memory of the trip - we were going to go up the Sears Tower (did, don't remember it) but in the plaza outside they were giving away these cute little 5 cigarette sample packs to people, and my adults made me go get two more because they were free. WHAT? Apparently they'll give more samples to the nine year old because he's wearing an amazing shirt? Also, the train ride home to Minnesota was boring because we didn't hit anyone. We did go through a town called "Tomah" which sounded like a made up name to me. Apparently tonight's rambling narrative is brought to you in the style of Allie Brosh - look her up, she's awesome.
As I was saying, it was a Friday in 2021 and I was going to train home. The trip from Stamford was fine, comfortable even. Not too crowded, and I got on the right train. Much like my daughter I go through all of the possible "oh shit" scenarios before I do something, and this one had a whole bunch of them, mostly involving getting on the wrong train and ending up in some kind of Borough. One of my concerns was that I would get on a train going the wrong way. I've got some cardinal orientation issues these days, but was really confident (because I looked on Google Maps) that the platform I was on had trains going north on it. And I wanted to go south. Didn't help that they had departure times, random destinations, but no train numbers on the status signs. It seems like that might be one of the more important pieces of information, but what do I know? My town only has three trains in it. Much to my surprise, after a few northbound trains, my train showed up going southbound. I know they know what they're doing, but it just seemed dangerous to me to have trains going different directions on the same tracks. I have enough trouble trying not to imagine the first scene of "Unbreakable" every time a train speeds up, I don't need to know there is potentially another train headed straight for us.
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| Where am I again? |
Which reminds me. I'm not easily scared, but when you're on a train ticking along at Amtrak miles an hour and another train goes past you on a neighboring track at Metro miles per hour, it makes this huge WHOOMPH and then whooshing sound and scares the bejeezus out of me. Still kinda cool though.
Comfortable though (snooty snort here) coach seating, it felt odd on this trip not to have a seatbelt. But I guess seatbelts don't help much in train crashes. But no cup holders. I had a Big Gulp sized iced latte (which apparently is just a Pumpkin Spice latte without the Pumpkin spice, but they made it special for me) and needed a place to put it. So I let it sweat all over my leg. Seriously though, why is that detail even worth mentioning?
I was well informed and sought out the "quiet car" - which is one of the best things ever. When someone tells you about the quiet car, they always relate a story of someone getting forcibly removed for taking a phone call. But it's always a friend of a friend, so.. Another philosophical point - I got on a train with a very large suitcase and at no point did I pass through even a metal detector. At Penn station I was amazed at the number of different law enforcement types I saw -- not number of officers, but number of different agencies that had many officers and big guns wandering around. And yet here I am on a train with any kind of bad thing in my luggage you could imagine. I fact, you could even say "bomb" on a train and I'm sure they would just find you a mixed drink with that word in it, instead of kicking you out, putting you in an orange jumpsuit and taking you to Cuba. Long story short, I sure did like that quiet car.
Regardless of my mental state of late, I can always go into problem solving mode when I travel. It's a logistical mindset and it allows me to get from point A to point B with the most efficient, least anxiety causing method available. This is my state for the next two days, and I have a feeling I'll sleep for a week when I get home. But the beauty of that state is that it allows you to do things you normally wouldn't. Like ask for a custom Latte at a Dunkin Donuts while a clearly deranged woman next to you argues about the "$3 drink on the sign just give me one of those" with the manager. Or reply to a truly scary authentic East Coast Irishman with a "no shit, right?" because you're in travel mode. Also, if I have to talk to an official or clerk or ticketing agent in public I just pretend to be my brother, talk like him, act like him, etc. Works every time, because he doesn't wig out if he has to talk to another human in public. But I digress. (it's what I do)) So the romance of travel helps overcome social anxiety. Kinda neat.
Coach seat riding into New York City (my sister mentioned this week that even though she lives near NYC every time she hears that particular string of words, she thinks of the phrase "git a rope!" from the Pace Picante commercial in the 80's. And I do too!) I hadn't really seen the skyline in a long time, and was amazed at some of the tall buildings. Yes, I saw the twin towers and the tall buildings back in the day, but they're making these buildings that are like twice as tall as everything else, and thin as rails! You'd think if they were building something that tall they'd go for the wide model or something. But those are just another one of the things I love seeing from trains. You get to see the underside of the city, graffiti and orange vest wearing workmen and all. Going into the city we got to look down into countless back yards and it was fascinating to see the different configurations, pools, driveways, and patios. Someone can have a super cool trendy urban patio with light strings and tile, and the next door neighbor has a bad lawn with a Honda Civic parked on it. And to be honest, I have to admit on hot days like today was, I watch for pretty ladies sun tanning in the buff in their back yards. Tall privacy fences don't keep the commuter from seeing your scandal! And no, I've never seen one. But I will continue to look for them, even if it's just for the 10 year old me who thinks that happens a lot.
Ok, so I'm already at 2500 words, which is 500 more than the last post and I haven't even gotten to Penn station. I would like to blame the siblings who said they enjoyed my ramblings for this. That and I'm stuck in a train car too early to go to bed and the wifi won't stream anything to save it's life. And the only downloaded shows I have on my phone are a bad BBC scifi drama and a movie with Matthew Modine and Jennifer Grey trying to win a sailing competition. And that's been on there for almost a year, I should just delete it. Maybe. I'll let you know how it ends tomorrow. (Update: Stunning win at the last minute, shocker) The point being you've read this far, you might as well keep going. This blog post is essentially a fidget spinner for my hands on the laptop. But aren't they all, really?
So I finally reach New York City ("git a rope") and get off to train to realize it makes sense that the train platforms and such aren't air conditioned, but that's not really very comfortable. I knew I was going to "Moynihan" something and found some signs on the floor pointing away from All Things Leading to Air Conditioning, but I followed them anyway. I end up in a beautiful concourse that to be honest reminds me of the old pictures of Penn Station but maybe passed through a couple of "don't remember it very well" filters, but there are iron beams and glass and open spaces. I liked it. It was the Moynihan Train Hall, and it was a large open area that promised retail shops and conveniences.. some time in the future. After all, it's the cities newest grand civic icon, as the first google result will tell you.
It's a beautiful terminal, except for a few things that make you realize it's an evil expression of the modern age. There is nowhere to sit. If you want to wait, you have to prove you have a ticket and then you get to go into a glass box that looks like the smoking section of an old Denver airport, except you can see through it and it doesn't smell like (not cigarettes!) burning cigarette filters. Also, all the murals showing the shops that are going to be there some day don't actually have shops in them yet.. so it's really just a large room you can only stand in. But the light through the skylights in beautiful! (One of the "future food" places had the name "this must be the place" https://lmgtfy.app/?q=this+must+be+the+place+mormons)
One of the first things I wanted to do was go outside, breathe fresh New York air, etc. Found an exit and popped out. Hot. Beautiful view down the streets with the Empire State Building front and center. Posted to Facebook, as one does. While I'm doing this I'm hearing a monologue from a guy that if someone wrote it and put it in a movie would be described as "heavy handed, unnatural, not believable, and too clichéd for any decent script" - lots of colorful words and accusing "some guy" of things, etc. He's a large balding man in an orange shirt, wiping his brow actively due to the heat. I'm trying not to stare but also working on a way to take a picture without looking like I'm taking a picture. Meanwhile I look up and see three guys in Hasidic outfits coming through the people picking them off one by one with some question. One gets to me and says something but too many awesome concerts at First Avenue means I can't hear anything in a loud spot like this, so I just went with "no, sorry" and he left -- meanwhile loud guy says something even louder and I look over and he locks eyes with me. So now he's going to say something and I have to acknowledge it. Great. He's going "Am I Jewish? Do I look Jewish?" and holds out his heavily tattooed arms. I'm about to lose my mind. Are those swastikas? Is this white power? Lord take me now. Closer inspection shows green shamrocks, etc. and a very Irish guy. So I give him "no shit, right?" and try and shrug it off while looking then back to my phone at Facebook and a top ten list about bad pajama commercials. Apparently it worked. He laughs and heads into the terminal. I get a picture on the sly as he's going in. In Apocalypse now there is the phrase "never get off the boat!" and I am now thinking "never leave the terminal!"
Sometimes I think long posts like these are going to convince someone I'm bipolar, since they're so manic. But anyone who would do that stopped reading right around the "disco collar" story, so it's just you and me, friend. Thank you for reading on. The fact that you've gotten this far means you care. Or you're stuck on a train and bored too. Please copy (DON'T SHARE) this to your Facebook wall and you will receive an email from a Nigerian Prince as a reward. Christ, we've just gotten to the terminal?
I remembered that because I got the "roomette" option on the train to Chicago, that got me into the Special People Lounge. So I headed up there and somehow it felt *more* air conditioned, which was really helpful later. I sat in a tall yellow high backed chair and enjoy my pretension while trying to figure out my next move. I was actually quite tired, as I hadn't slept long or well the night before and my biggest fear was falling asleep in the incredibly comfortable chair and then waking up nine minutes after my train had left. So I thought about looking at things in the area. I had a bunch of apps that I was going to use on the drive out, but didn't, that had "interesting things nearby" features. What I found was an article about "the old post office" - which was directly across from Penn Station, was built forever ago, had a huge open air atrium in which they had vacuum tubes to speed mail from place to place. It ran most of the mail for Manhattan and had the whole "rain and snow" quote on it's block long façade. (Great band name: Block Long Façade) I was trying to figure out where it was on the map but it was very confusing. It gave the streets, but it would have been (I think?) the building I was in -- but it was an old entry so maybe they razed that building to put this one up. Which sucks, because the old Penn Station looked cool and they destroyed it for a sports venue, and to destroy such a beautiful post office for an Amtrak lobby is just.. sad. (Keep reading! It's not so sad!)
I was nervously looking up information on roomettes when I came across another "tips for Amtrak" list that mentioned you might want to get your own snacks for cheaper, and that you can bring alcohol and drink it on the sly. So I thought since I had almost an hour and a half I had time to resupply. Before the trip I got a giant bag of tootsie rolls and a giant bag of pink/red starburst, and they've been sitting unopened in the outside pocket of my suitcase for 10 days now. So I needed more, clearly.
Looking up Penn station it seemed like they had some shops and food places, so I'd go over there. I didn't want to go outside because it was stupid hot even though it looked like it might rain. But I think I figured out I could get there through the underground hallways. So I headed out! I thought about asking if there were lockers I could put my massive rolling suitcase in while I adventured, but didn't want to talk to a stranger - even as my brother - so I figured it would be fun and efficient to carry/drag/wheel it across the noisiest terra cotta the Moynihan people could find. (Note: I did not just document the wormhole I just went down that involved the actress Bridget Moynihan, mistaking her for the actress (Stana Katic, was in Heroes (another wormhole "save the cheerleader save the world")) in Castle, realizing via IMDB she was in "Prey" which was then misidentified as a made for TV movie about a John Sanford novel, which was set in the Twin Cities. You're welcome.)
There was a noise in the hall of the train car just now and for a moment I got paranoid and thought the not-porter (see below) was going to bust in and say "Dude just stop typing nobody cares!" -- it's like a boring middle aged man pretending to be Hunter S Thompson, except without the drugs. Although the Jameson bottle's cap is stripped so I'm going either have to finish it or pour it into my flask that I forgot I brought. And the train is not going to allow me to do something so precise. Don't worry, it's not a real bottle of Jameson, it's a tiny one I got at a Penn Station Liquor Store. But it cost the same as a large bottle, if that helps! (I'm re-enacting the opening scene of "Jewel of the Nile" as Kathleen Turner getting drunk on airplane bottles of booze with her cat. Great movie. Her winter coat in South America reminds me of taking heavy winter coats to pick up family at the airport who are winging in from Mexico. The pain is real.) If it helps, I'm now reading things and deleting them because you don't care about the chef who dropped everything to show a nice old man where the other part of the lounge was. (Or.. do you? <evil grin>)
Turns out those hallways and concourses are also not air conditioned, so I got so sweaty I felt like I'd just taken a shower. I did find the wine and spirits place after looping around twice, was very intimidated by the amount of wine you could buy for your subway ride, and got the Jameson. I also ended up also paying $9 for a sandwich that is still in my backpack, uneaten. Might eat it now though, sounds good! (I did, it was.) It was fun going through the crowds and seeing all the different State Troopers and Train cops and Actual Military people who were guarding the subways. There were highly skilled buskers, lost tourists and jaded city folk. I saw homeless people sleeping in the midst of enormous crowds, and thought about COVID and how I was wandering amongst the most people I could, in the most international spot I could, with just a little mask covered in "ships in bottles."
The best thing that came out of the trip for supplies, besides getting supplies, was deciding to bite the bullet and go outside to get back to Moynihan. It was Very New York out there. Hot and humid, with the smells of street food carts, and clueless tourists standing in everyone's way, taxicabs unloading in the most inconvenient places but somehow getting away with it, and finally seeing that HUGE post office building across the street. Where the Moynihan hall was. And it all started to make sense. The entry I'd read (which talked about how 90% of the old post office was abandoned) was way outdated, and the post office was actually the new Amtrak lobby. I was happy to have seen the façade and all that, so my idiocy was actually well excused. (4,000+ words now. That's 8 pages of single spaced text. Seriously.)
The train just turned off. Lights, engine noise, power outlets, everything. It's not even 10pm local time. Should I be worried? Nope, went back on eventually.
After all of this I had a full backpack, supplies, had sweated completely to the core, and was now waiting for my train to be announced. Sooner than later it is, and I make my way down to board. So much more I could go on about in dealing with strangers finding the car and everything, but suffice to say, I found roomette 004 on the somethingsomething2 car. I was really excited about this part of the trip, because I'd only ever been coach on a train except that one in Germany that was so cold the guy checking passports commented on it. I've seen them in James Bond movies, and North by Northwest (which actually refers to going north on Northwest airlines, now Delta, a Minnesota company!). I had splurged on this option for a few reasons. Things like "I don't like other humans how can I avoid them" and "let's make taking a train cost more and take longer than an airplane." Also, if I was going to have to sleep on the train, I wanted my CPAP and didn't think it'd be cool or inconspicuous to snap into my face hugger mask in the middle of a coach car.
So I had a roomette! I'd done research but really wasn't sure what it would be like. It ends up it's like half a sleeper cabin. Two chairs facing each other, a small space and then a sliding door to the hall. Curtains for privacy, all sorts of lights that are hard to figure out how to turn off, and can be transformed into two beds in the form of a bunkbed. No space for luggage, but I just put the Giant Suitcase in the seat facing me and piled the pillows on it. It's like my "Wilson from Castaway" except with pillows. To be honest it does make me feel less lonely. One surprise was the fact that they managed to fit a hidden toilet in the roomette. I actually went and did a bunch of online research to make sure it was something I was allowed to use, and not just a "used to use those, but not now" kinds of things. So cool. There were bottles of water waiting at the seats in the CUP HOLDERS, but still no seatbelts. While the train has an "always masks on" policy, I go rogue and take it off once the curtains are closed. Yup, I'm a rebel. The not-a-porter comes by (something online told me they weren't porters anymore but I can't remember what they're called now) and gave me the lowdown on some stuff, but left enough unanswered questions (Can I use that toilet? When you say you could bring me my dinner was that something you expect to do or would I be putting you out? How often do I have to talk to other humans? etc.) that I wasn't sure about a few things. The dinner part was the worst, since I was actually hungry for the first time in a few days.
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| As you can see my Pillow based travelling companion doesn't know how to wear a mask properly. |
I had worn jeans even though it was 102 heat indexy outside, because I knew (from Germany) that trains could be horribly cold. So when I found a thermostat I cranked it all the way down and I'm waiting to see if I can get cold, much less dry the sweat. No luck so far. One of the things I was worried about - and came true - was getting this expensive spot on the train and being on the wrong side. And yes, I was on the "wrong" side. So I wouldn't be on the Great Lakes side to see the awesome water. As it happens, I was on the Hudson River side, and by the time we got anywhere near the finger lakes much less the great lakes, it was full dark. So I got to see the Hudson, and it was amazing! I had recently finished listening to the 12 hour audiobook about Everything Fur Trading, and the Hudson river was a big part of the history. It was much wider than I thought it would be, and had all manner of interesting boats to look at. I may be missing the great lakes, but I got to see the Hudson -- Palisades and all! Those suckers are *tall*.
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| Sometimes my phone seems a little "too" smart Wasn't even aiming at the coke bottle |
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| Palisades |
We passed Sing Sing prison, West Point, Saugerties Lighthouse, and so many very cool points. Some I knew, some (most) I had to look up. Got some lousy pictures, but pictures never capture awe in the right way.
I was getting hungry, didn't know if the not-porter was coming back to offer to bring me my dinner awkwardly, so I sucked it up and decided to find the food place. There are diner cars and club cars and bar cars and who knows what, and I didn't have a clue what I had, or even how to order there given my meals were included in my ticket. But I went anyway! I did not meet Alfred Hitchcock in the hallway and have to intimately squeeze past him, and after two cars entered what might have been a diner car? It reminded me an awful lot of the "hey kid you're not supposed to be in here" car from 1978, but it turns out it was just a bunch of Amtrak employees taking breaks in the diner car. Awkwardly but Big Brotherly asked one of the staff at the microwave bank how to do this, and he told me if I sit down they'll come to me. It wasn't crowded enough that I was worried about having to sit with a stranger, but that was a risk. About fourteen times I almost got up and left out of confusion and anxiety, but thought that would be more suspicious than staying. And of course it was fine. Rather than the Creole dish (too many green onions) I picked the "nonspecific protein" enchiladas. Finally ordered and after a bit of a while was presented with a nice handled bag with my food inside. The guy at the table across from me had been talking to a not-porter about how he was crossing this great nation on trains and had some questions about what kinds of diner cars were standard -- and I realized I was at great risk of being approached to chat about why we're both taking the grand romantic trains of America across this great nation of ours. Never have I been so focused on a cellphone "paint by numbers" game, and he didn't talk to me.
Took the food back to my roomette - actually found it again successfully! No Alfred Hitchcock on the return either. And proceeded to eat my moderately tasty meal like you would on an airplane, with one hand on your drink, one hand on your fork, one hand on the "plate" and one hand on the box of salad/roll/butter/etc so nothing falls off the tiny tray table. The "nonspecific protein" was really pretty good, and I would absolutely recommend it. Because apparently the menus never change, if you take a train in 15 years it'll probably still be available. Dinner was a success! Good news: I'm not actually going to finish the Jameson and have been watering it down for a while now, bad news: I need to navigate the in-roomette peeing exercise again. Like being in an airplane bathroom during heavy turbulence, and if anything goes wrong it goes wrong where you sleep.
After I finish eating and start typing manically, we get to Albany. The train stops and has to make a connection with another train. There is one train coming from New York, and one train coming from Boston. They meet and connect up passenger cars and continue on to Chicago. Scary math question: How fast would the first train have to be going to meet the second train? Answer: Faster than it was, because it was announced we would have to wait until 7:05 for the other train. Glance at the clock and it says 5:15. Fine, we expect trains to be late and there's a 5 hour buffer in Chicago, we can wait a bit. At least the train isn't bumping all over the place. And then it turns off. All of it. Engine, lights, power outlets, air conditioning... And I'm looking at either 2 hours in a sweatbox and no moving air, or mingling with the other (Likely friendly and chatty) passengers on the platform as we wait. Sweat lodge it is, I guess.
At some point in the trip I decided I would leave all of my manual clocks (watch, laptop apparently) on Central time and just do the math in my head. (Have I met me? Who thought that was a good idea? Past Robert is a moron.) Turns out it wasn't 5:15, it was 6:15 and the 7:05 was a wild estimate. Sweat box somewhat managed.
Seriously, I think I'm going to have to pull a "Stand By Me" and at the end of this long and winding wordstorm and just delete all the text and take the kids to the beach. If I save it I'll read it tomorrow and make sure it isn't just typed giggling ala Duke from Doonesbury.
And so we reach the end of the first day of the super train journey. The not-porter came by and set up the upper bunk, and it's technically 10 (or 11?) and I could go to bed. I might stay up and play video games a bit though. It's full FULL dark outside, though sometimes we pass a lit intersection. That warrants a honk from the train, as does many things apparently. All I can think of is the property value of everyone we pass blowing the horn. My travelling companion the piece of luggage is nodding off, and I feel like I've exorcised all of the pointless observances onto a keyboard. Enough.
My therapist told me journaling might be a good thing for my mental health. I'm trying to prove her wrong with 6,000 words.
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