14 Hours Back Home

Well, Gentle Readers, when last we met I was describing the last full day of my vacation, complete with a windy shore and an angry lake. Also chocolate! But I didn't have any so I can't comment on that part.

Today's post is going to discuss the trip back, all 14 long hours of it. It's true. I got up at 8am, was at the train station by 9am to sort out the ticket issue (luckily, it was pretty easy even though I had to pay for my tickets again, which like I said in an earlier post, I think is wrong, wrong, wrong) and was on the train by 10:15. It left the station on time at 10:23 and was surprisingly full, but then, it had come from Detroit and was going to Chicago, so since it was a Friday and all, I supposed a full train was reasonable.

As per usual the entire time I was traveling, all eyes in the compartment (and at the stations, and in Chicago in Union Station) were on me -- and my guitar. I must have fielded a hundred questions because of that damn guitar case, and the only answers I have are insipid, because I've just started playing. Requests for songs (which I couldn't give, if I'd known more, I probably *would* have done a song or two but), questions about what band I was in (!?), political discourse because of the bumper stickers on the case -- I have a sticker that says 'Jesus didn't teach me to hate gay people', one advertisement for a local bastion of the tattoo artist's trade, and a large sticker that says 'Christian, not closed-minded', which made for some interesting queries, in the Chinese curse sort of way. Most people couldn't understand how I could be a Christian and yet proudly display 'that other stuff', which I thought was a sad commentary on where Christianity has gone, so far from where it began.

But this post is not about political or religious discourse, sorry for the tangent. I had a very quiet seatmate on the way to Chicago, she looked like the typical wealthy white woman of a certain age that I met a lot on the train, who doesn't want to drive and doesn't have a whole lot of options she likes for flying. And considering that I was wearing black jeans, a teeshirt that had a picture of the Ireland soccer team, and my black leather biker's jacket, I'm not surprised that she didn't want to have anything to do with me. Appearances can be so deceiving, can't they? You and I, Gentle Readers, know that I'm not really a cold-blooded barbarian biker bitch, but I do rather look the part, what with the short hair and the tattoos and so on. Not that you can see the ink when I'm wearing a shirt with sleeves, but still.

Anyhow, the trip from Kalamazoo to Union Station in Chicago is a very pretty one, there are a lot of woods (and at that time the wood were on fire with fall color), and it even goes by a large lakeside community. I don't know whether it's Lake Michigan or some other lake, but the town was very pretty, and looked quite like a seaside town on the East Coast.

However, the actual travel took considerably more time than they had planned because we were constantly running into freight traffic. As a result, we pulled into Chicago a full hour late, and while my connection to Minneapolis via the Empire Builder was ok, my lunch plans were shot. Thankfully the Chief Fool, a veteran of many an Amtrak trip, gave me some protein bars in case the worst should happen, so I was able to have at least a little something in the station while waiting for the Empire builder to board. These bars were Clif Bars and they were really pretty good.

Through some serendipity due to my Asperger's (guess it is good for something after all!) I was able to board the train first with the rest of the elderly, the crippled (I did say I'm not PC, when I started this blog) and my fellow freaks. The Amtrak employees kept asking me if I wanted help with my baggage, or if I wanted Red Cap service (which means they load your luggage and drive you to the train in a golf cart thing, a lot like what they have at airports) and finally I snapped. I didn't yell, but I did say somewhat sarcastically, "You know, just because I'm autistic doesn't mean my legs are broken. Save your resources for those who really need them . . . I can handle my own luggage."

But that was the worst of it. I paid an extra $7 for a lower level seat and I'm glad I did, they are a LOT less crowded, they have a lot more room, and they're very much quieter, all of which things worked well for my asperger's issues. They're also much darker, which is nice, I like the dark and it really felt comfy, like being in my own little personal cave. I did go up to the lounge to explore and liked what little view there was (the more north we got, the more drab it became, our fall color peaked up here ages ago and now we're just waiting for winter). The wrap around windows are cool, I did not expect that. Also checked out the cafe (tiny) and the lounge (nice for playing board games or working on a laptop).

At 5:15 I was summoned for my dinner reservation in the dining car, and I admit it, I splurged. I was hungry, having all but missed lunch, and breakfast was a long time ago. They sat me with three other women who were all related (Person A, her sister, and daughter in law) and I was relieved of the burden of trying to make conversation with strangers, NOT one of my skills. I said something every once in a while, if it was relevant, but for the most part they were happy to leave me alone and I was happy to get left alone.

Dinner itself was surprisingly good for having been put together on a train, and reasonably cost-effective. It was $20 for a non-alcoholic drink (I chose ginger ale), a 'salad' which like most salads nowadays was lettuce with two cherry tomatoes, some croutons and a slice of cucumber, bread in the form of rolls almost like parker house but not as fluffy (they were really good) and dessert. I had their 'oven-roasted chicken' which was actually fried, but was still good, some yummy green beans, and a baked potato which for once wasn't undercooked. The apple pie for dessert was a bit, well, limp (obviously the crust wasn't standing up to the rigors of Amtrak kitchens!) but it still tasted pretty good and the apples within retained some of their crunch, always nice.

By the time dinner arrived we were in the Wisconsin Dells, near the famous gorge, and it was light enough to still see, so that was an unexpected good time, getting to eat while looking at the lovely scenery. After dinner I made my way back to my little cave and thought about the fact that I was missing Great Big Sea's Chicago show. I comforted myself with the knowledge that I'd be seeing them again in Minneapolis the next day, and that they tend to regularly hit Chicago, so with any luck, it wouldn't be long before I would be able to make a show there in the future. I am still hoping that they'll come around somewhere within spitting distance this summer. 4 shows in about 10 weeks really spoiled me for them, I know there are people out there who only get to see them once a year if that.

Wrote some lyrics on my ITouch as it got darker, listened to music, tried to nap and failed, and watched some of the television episodes I'd uploaded as we headed ever closer to home. By the last hour of the trip I was like a Mexican Jumping Bean, I could not *wait* to get off the train and into the arms of my husband, and to get back to the house and our dogs and all the rest of it.

Got home a little after 11pm, and I was so tired by then that after having a bowl of cereal and skimming through my email to see if anything important had happened in my absence, I was literally light-headed and dizzy with fatigue. It was like that feeling you have when you're about to pass out. A week of sleep deprivation plus a 14 hour travel day all caught up to me in one fell swoop.

I slept as late as I could the next day, Saturday, but there was a Great Big Sea concert that night . . . which I will tell you all about in the next post!! Stay tuned!