Little Rhody

I arrived safely in Rhode Island about 45 minutes ago, I'd say. It's been a horribly long day, but lucky for you that makes for a slightly punchier me! 

My alarm went off at 5. Five-o-clock. AM. In the morning. I had to leave by six in the morning. Ante Meridiem if you will. The sun wasn't out, but when I hit 270 towards DC, I was surprised at the number of cars that were there, driving into the sun rising over the circumference of D.C. that forgets which side the gas pedal is on. With the metro running how it was, and me unsure of where to park, I just barely made it to my train. 

At this point, my appetite for breakfast had not even been close to satisfied. My bagel from Sheetz was dry and disappointing, so I traded it in at the train station for some crackers. Big surprise, they were even more dry. I opted for the least-beaten-up apple at Primo Cappuccino which wasn't dry and surprisingly tasty. It made up for what would be my lunch. A hot dog microwaved for 45 seconds and a bag of potato chips. 

I know none of you care about this, but as my stomach growls and becomes more and more hungry, all I can really think about is food. And the delicious peanut butter cookies I made for Christmas and brought from home for my journey. 

There was a man on the metro who creeped me out. Big surprise. At first, I thought perhaps he indulged in a poppy seed bagel for breakfast and was checking his teeth for renegade poppies. This is completely explainable on the metro in the slightly-reflective plasticglass at seven in the morning. He was, indeed, conversing with his reflection and digging into his pockets like any great movie psychopath. In the anxiety I've had over the past two or three days, I almost hopped off the train in Bethesda and got back on the train three minutes behind. Almost. Yet again, my anxiety was proven wrong, and he was just feeling a little chatty and exited the train when we got to Tenleytown. 

In my observations on the Northeast Regional over the past two weeks, I've discovered a slightly more normal passenger group than on the Capitol Limited or the Texas Eagle. Perhaps it is because of the larger number of business people trying to get here from there - but it makes for poor people watching. The only real hilarity on the ride up here was one of the assistant conductors. Conversation to follow. 

"What's the stop right before Providence?" I ask, needing to know so my dad could come get me. 

"I don't know," conductor says proudly, "I get off at New York. What is it?"

Blank stare, trying to figure out if he really just re-asked me my question teacher-style or if I'm just showing early signs of sleep deprivation. 

"I think it's Kingston, is that right?" 

Blank stare continues as the assistant conductor pulls out a piece of paper. 

"Kingston, yes, Kingston, Rhode Island is before Providence. That sounds about right doesn't it?" 

"Um. Great." 

I'm so lucky I made it here and did not end up in a) Boston or b) standing on a curbside in unfamiliar downtown Providence for any extended period of time. 

We're waiting on my cousin to head out to dinner. In the meantime, I think I'll have another cookie.

On a side note: my grandmother always said that if you couldn't laugh you would cry. Her sentiments are getting me through all of this, her sentiments and the poor, lost assistant conductor.

Back on Solid and Intarwebbed Ground

Chicago - Round Two. Same Panera, different table. (Ok, one table over. What can I say? I'm a creature of habit)

I was getting settled in my seat on the Amtrak commuter bus from Houston to Longview, innocently listening to some Christmas tunes, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but, CREEPER! He waved at me with his creepy little sparkle in his eye that said, "I knew you would be on this bus/train again." I had a funny feeling I was going to be in for a long afternoon, day, evening. 

I avoided him for a good bit of the bus ride out. He was talking loudly about visiting his girlfriend for the Thanksgiving holiday. I tuned in to the word "intimate" and immediately turned my ears off. There are certain things you don't talk about in public with people you don't know, and one of those things is intimacy. 

He caught up with another younger girl and I on the platform at Longview. They were calling for families first, and he suggested we say we are cousins so we can get on together and that he would get seats for us. I bit. I know. I'm horrible because of it, but I really wanted a window seat and I wanted to sit with someone not creepy (this girl, not creeper friend). 

Things went well. He seemed to woo the affection of an older lady drinking Heinekens out of a cooler. People were obnoxious in the wee hours of the morning when they got on the train. I was irritated. The girl I was next to left in Springfield, and I found hope in being able to stretch out and enjoy the space as I finished my coffee and read my book. 

Then, creeper came back from eating, saying he hoped he could keep his food down because he had felt ill the entire ride. 

There is nothing I like less than vomit. 

He looked at me. Stared at me even while I was sitting innocently reading  (still) and said, "I think you're beautiful." 

Panic. 

He continued to be creepy the rest of the way, scooting over towards me as he slept. He told me when I got off the train he would miss me. 

Should I be flattered? 

Regardless. I leave here at 7, and I'm hoping for a less eventful, even lonely, ride back to Martinsburg. 

Sigh. 

The Texas Eagle

I write this on a shaking train with my magnification at around 150% because, anything less, and I can't see because the tray my poor little shaken MacBook is on has fallen victim to the bumpy tracks of the American mid-to-south west. The Allegheny Mountains are curvy and terrifying in their own regard, but the quality of smoothness really starts to decline after Chicago. We've been bouncing and bumping along since Springfield. 

Regardless, I felt the need to start this entry before I could sit down to the safe, smooth, un-moving front of Blogger, incase my selective memory chooses to block out this trek of the 21 Texas Eagle. 

First, a disclaimer, I know that your typical long-journey train crown is nothing by typical. There has to be something unhinged upstairs if you are willing to endure sleeping next to perfect strangers, not shower for a few days and have layovers in strange cities. I include myself in that same unhinged category, but I think Amtrak has really done it this time by putting all of the crazies interested in traveling to Texas by rail on this train. 

The whole experience started out rather innocently. I met a nice college-aged couple in Unition Station in Chicago. They've done this trip before, so it was nice to be around some vetswho kow the ins and outs of Amtrak travel. I like to make small talk on the train, because, let's face it, if you don't you're going to be really lonely and nervous for the entirety of your trip. It's not worth making enemies. So, I talked to a boy who, I suppose, would fall into your typical gamer, Dungeons and Dragons sort of stereotype. (Don't hate on me for using a stereotype - it's the best way I can think to describe him to you folks over the intarwebz)

Apparently, this small talk was a big mistake. He presumed to follow me to my seat, asking me if I was traveling alone and would I like someone to keep me company for the next 19 hours. I told him that it seemed I would have a seat to myself at least for a little while and wanted to catch up on sleep I didn't get the night before on the train from Martinsburg. Had it been me, I would have given up there. 

I have a killer intuition. I know creepy when it addresses me. 

A few hours later, I'm minding my own business, enjoying Three Cups of Tea and listening to a little bit of Belle & Sebastian on my iPod. He comes over and ists down and proceeds to make small talk with me about music and other such things. He's an aspiring romance writer. His friends tell him he writes good smut. He asked if I was a fan of Vivaldi. I'm not, really. He asked how I could not be a fan of Vivaldi, especially "The Four Seasons." I tell him that if you've ever been involved in music on any kind of scholastic level "The Four Seasons" get overplayed like Britney Spears' "Womanizer" (I wish I had thought of that one during the conversation). In an attempt to change my Vivaldi opinion, he puts his headphones on me and has me listen to some Vivaldi piano. Then, he starts to air-piano.

I know many a piano player, I've dated a piano player and as far as I'm concerned, they never air-piano when they are trying to win friends. At this point, I was beyond creeped out. 

I'm texting the boyfriend at this point, telling him he needs to call me. I tweeted for someone, anyone, to call me. My prayers and tweets were answered and my air-pianoing Vivaldi friend went back to his seat. 

I napped and ate a small bag of chips. I talked to my friend from Union Station and he said he and his girlfriend were laughing at the air-piano small talk while my friend was visiting. The couple in front of me made fun of me. A drunk lady a few rows up began yelling something about over-priced sandwiches, I believe. 

Then, my friend came back. At this point, I'm playing some puzzle games on my Nintendo DS. I was very busy. He sat down again and began to ask the only question anyone who knows me know I should never be asked...

"So, are you into anime at all?" 

My high school boyfriend gave me a terrible fear of anime, Dungeons and Dragons and all things role-play a number of years ago. Knowledge of this is still an object of torture my friends use against me at random moments of weakness. I responded with what was probably a too-terse no, and the boy still asked me to join him for dinner. 

At this point, he hadn't asked me anything to get to know me (including my name) and I previously made reservations in the dining car for 7:30. 

The drunk lady is now yelling at people to be quiet, hitting the poor man next to her and telling him to sit up because the train is under attack. People are yelling back at her and f***ing b****es are exchanged. Those of is in my gloriously empty car are told that we will end up with seat buddies for the rest of the journey because we're getting rid of the last passenger car in St. Louis. I go to dinner and the ladies I am sitting with complain about every aspect of the meal. Drunk lady is gone when I return. 

My new seat buddy and his family seem normal, however. Seat buddy father is currently tabbing his Bible and his wife and daughter across the aisle are crocheting and watching a movie. 

Thank you, God. 

It's now 10:00 and I can't imagine anything else interesting will happen for the evening. I shall publish this when I have the Internet and a less-shaky surface to edit on. 

Oh, and my anime friend? He'll be on my four-hour bus from Longview to Houston. 

Greetings from Chi-Town

The first leg of my trip on the train adventure was quite successful, despite almost missing it to begin with. 

I'd never been to the Martinsburg train station before, and it's just as creepy as you would expect it to be. Also, there is no one in the station to tell you that the train outside is, indeed, your train. So, assistant conductor lady is hanging out of the train going by (ten minutes early by my clock...the phone prompt said it would be four minutes late) yelling, "You going to Chicago?! I'm leaving!" I run in and ask the three other people sitting in the station if they, too, are going to Chicago and we jump up and run out there, getting reamed out my assistant conductor lady the entire time. 

Well, Amtrak, if you weren't consistently late, you wouldn't catch me by surprise when you are early. 

I made a dinner reservation in the dining car, and met a dance teacher and his nurse wife from D.C. and Jared from Minnesota. I ate a steak, some potatoes and some ice cream and had a really great conversation with my dining mates. The guy from D.C. considers himself an archaeologist of dance and his wife talked to Jared about nursing (he's a nursing student, currently). We ended up sitting there and chatting for over an hour. I had a seat companion, who managed to fall asleep with her legs up, gating me in, so using the restroom was an aerobic exercise. I slept poorly until she left in Waterloo, IN, when I stretched out and managed to sleep until around 8:30. 

We arrived in Chicago, and I learned that Jared has a similar layover to my own, so we're currently sitting on our Macs in a Panera. The Sears Tower is right across the street. 

It's 10:57 a.m. central time, and my train leaves at 1:45. Here's to an adventure in Chicago. 

I'll be in Texas tomorrow afternoon, if all keeps up with this theme of on-time-ness.