Y’all thought I was just gonna leave you hanging this weekend, didn’t you? <Motions for you to enter my arms.> Come ‘ere. Come on in for the real thing. Or rather for niblets I wrote throughout the course of my train ride.
You can’t imagine the view – the shock of lavender amid forest greens and cardinal red. Then the stone and then the marsh. The still wings of a gliding egret. Listening to my music and watching the state of New York woo me – the waterfront homes with modest rooftops and wind-rolled American flags. The fallen trees hugged by moss patches. And the storks taking flight, white above the green pelt that rides the surface of the water, which either reflects the luster of this emerald rainbow or has taken on a chartreuse to mimic it. And then the last stork gracefully takes flight. A sheet of white rainfall streaks the short distance between the majestic avian to the marsh below. Oh. So I just watched a bird crap. Huh.
This is how I know I’m not ADHD. Or: I’ve finally discovered the reason train trips are the key to happiness. (I’m a slow learner.) It combines two of my favorite things to do. Sit, undisturbed, and admire the outside world. It’s amazing. It is the single most relaxing thing you can do outside of a bathtub. [Insert story of my many visits on the Coast Starlight.] Reclining on the train, listening to Train – which is just the right dose of drawl to make it the perfection reintroduction to the U.S. I do realize I sat still looking out the window for an alarming number of hours in succession. Particularly when one takes into account the number of times dude in the NY hat has gone in and out of the car. Bruh. You’re thisclose to a time out. Swear. It makes my convalescent calm all the more strange looking. But when I started getting concerned looks silently assessing my apparent catatonia, I caved and walked to the bathroom. Then I came back and took a nap. Le wimpled turtledove coo.
My baby ears cannot HANDLE these stupid earbuds. Doggone it. I have boo-boos for days.
So, I’m guessing people thought it would be simple enough to cross the US-Canadian border via the slow boat (ie Amtrak). Um. The immigration police-dealies board the train and go one by one, asking you several questions that you probably by law don’t actually have to answer but who – other than me? – is gonna be like, “Wait, what?! What does that have to do with anything?” Like when he asked me about my Canadian status after opening my immigration document inside my passport. I’m like, Uh, read it, dude. No, that part was fine. It was when he asked me how my family makes money. I did notice that, being the only American citizen in my particular cab, when he asked me about how much money I had on me, he dropped his voice significantly. And I very much appreciated it. Because it made me feel special and I was kinda mad he didn’t say, “Welcome Home” like they usually do. L Although I’d just told him I’d only be here for four days. Whatever. Not even a hug or a high-five? Are we so bureaucratic?! Oh and then they broke out the big guns. Or the hound dog, rather. They also sent several people and their luggage into the lounge car. O_O Moral: They’re. Not playing.
Oh snap, it’s been a YEAR since I saw my sister.