It Gets Desperate

Yesterday I got on a train for Vermont--a ride that is scheduled to take 8.5 hours, but usually takes 9.5. Four minutes from a stop in Clairmont, New Hampshire we stopped suddenly and were there for over three hours. Why? Our train had hit and killed someone.

I would complain about the delay, but it's kind of SMALL POTATOES compared to the issues that the crew was facing, not to mention the family of the man who was struck. Regardless, I had already blown through working on a short story, reading, writing in my journal, a movie, and talking on the phone with my dad about his own youthful adventures on trains until my phone had died. I was in relatively okay spirits, but I was getting A BIT DESPERATE for entertainment. For the first time I went through ALL the affects of the photobooth on my mac. It didn't take long. Then I watched a slide show I made from all these old pictures I had scanned in and put them to a Bob Dylan song. I was ABOUT to make a slide show of the photobooth pictures, and add a soundtrack by Sleater-Kinney when we started moving.

I got into Montpelier via a bus at 12:30am--THIRTEEN HOURS after I had left New York. Considering the night everybody else involved was having, I'd say it was a pretty good trip for me.