Mind the Gap!

Last night on the train, there were four guys standing by the doors. Kind of tough-looking guys, they didn't appear to know each other. One of them was an older black guy, there was a white guy, and two Latino-looking guys. They were just standing, not talking. It was around ten thirty at night.

We stopped at Belmont, and the black guy, facing the door, pulled an iPhone out of his bag. In pulling it out, the phone got away from him, and it bounced its way out the open door of the train. Between the train and the platform there's a gap that's plenty large to fit an iPhone. It didn't fall down that, though, and the man was able to step out of the train, retrieve his phone, and step back in before the doors closed.

The other three guys empathized with him immediately. They were visibly relieved when the man got his phone back. The white guy gave a recap of his emotions throughout the ordeal ("Then I was like, oh no! And then there was the crack and the door! And, like, wow.") The black guy told the others that it was a new phone on top of everything.

It was nice to see people on the train empathizing with one another so spontaneously, even if it was over an iPhone. Sometimes people are alright.

Some Like It Luke Warm

My Amtrack ride from Denver to Chicago was running in the range of ten hours behind schedule. There was a man in the seat behind me, a little ragged looking, old Globe Trotters jacket, faded hat, who I'd been overhearing on the phone.

"I'm going to fucking miss my connection. I have to go all the way to Chicago, and take a train, but those are full, or a bus, but those are booked."

He spoke in a low voice. Controlled but wavering slightly.

I thought to myself, "I hope he doesn't have a firearm."

He said, "I haven't killed anybody yet, but I'm close."

Then, "They're going to give us dinner, but guess what they're feeding us?" Disgusted, "Chicken."

As I got up to go to the bathroom I heard him say, "You don't have much longer."

When I read that now, I realize it doesn't sound that scary. But I was stuck on a train! And a bullet could have easily ripped through the plastic-cloth components of the seat back and pierced my heart.

We were just idling on the tracks. The chicken-hating man could have cornered me in the joint between the dirty window, with white smears of children's hand and face prints (probably tongue prints), and the geometrically patterned cushions. Or stood me up with the gun barrel to my head shouting---Get those freight trains to move their asses or the girl dies!

(Not a bad plan, actually.)

He was right about the dinner. It was a decent meal of mashed potatoes, broth and a croissant. I met a guy who had just finished hiking the 500-mile trail from Denver to Durango. He does a new long-distance hiking trip every summer.

I moved to the observation lounge with a beer and my book, feeling pretty good. An older man, whom I had heard heckling the attendant because he wanted dessert (Just a little square of cake...), sat down next to me.

He was on the phone: We're twelve hours late...unbelievable...and don't even ask me about dinner...yes, terrible...no cake.

He hung up and turned to me, "58 years...that was the most affable....conversation we've ever had."

Then he put his camera to the window to take a picture of the silhouette, the sun setting red and purple behind an Iowan farm house. He couldn't figure out how to turn the flash off. Flash. Flash -- obscuring his picture.

A woman behind us said, "Oh, lightning!"