Chicago
Day
1: March 7, 2003
?
pm: I have no idea what time it is,
right now. My mom left about half an
hour ago, though (so I estimate), so it’s probably about a quarter of
four. As far as I know, I whiled away
half an hour practicing. In an empty
train station, of all places.
It’s
been a little interesting, these past two days (and I haven’t even begun to get
to Chicago, yet). To
begin with, I woke up yesterday morning, and my first thought was that I had to
get a bunch of stuff done before coffee at 3:15ish with Crap. But, of course, nothing really happened until
then (nothing interesting, anyway).
Coffee with Crap [the
author has just been informed that it’s 4:00 p.m. on the dot], and I set
off, thinking about the fact that I just told someone that they are free to do
what they will with my second most prized material possession.
The
trip to and through Billings is relatively uneventful. Getting gas in Billings is uneventful. Leaving Billings is uneventful. However, in between Billings and Roundup, a spark plug
decides that it no longer likes its hole, and jumps out. While I look in my car, trying to figure it
out, a mechanic stops and takes a look, and informs me of this most alarming
anomaly. He also instructs me how to fix
it. He then drives off, before I have a
chance to ask him for a wrench.
Thankfully, someone else stops, and performs a Mrs. Fixit. I continue on.
Nothing
until 30 miles out of Lewistown. The
entire time, I’m thinking about getting a new car, and Crap’s
musical taste, and just how much joy a trumpet player can get out of a duck
call*. And I look, and see that my
lights are, once again, beginning to dim.
A new car, indeed.
I make
it into Lewistown. Go and see a
friend. Return home, and fall asleep in
a chair. Ah memories of high school.
The
roads leading out of Lewistown are horrible, the next morning. They eventually get better, though. Wait at the train station in Malta for a bit, then call the
hotline. Find out the train will most
likely be about 2 ½ hours late. Mom
leaves. Practice
And
now! I’m here. I’ve seen one person since Mom left, and
don’t expect t see another for a while.
Possibly more, later tonight.
This is, after, my first trip
alone.
……………………………………………………
It’s six
o’clock,
now. I’m finally on the damn train,
three hours behind schedule. I didn’t bring
my trumpet onto the main section of the train, although I may do that
later. Right now, I’m thinking about the
people (ranging from ATKH to Crap) that I miss back home (home meaning
college), and wondering if it’s being reciprocated. Undergo a bit of self analysis.
Trains
are nice. The seats are infinitely
better than a plane’s, it’s quiet, and the doors between cars are
automated. I’ll be able to practice, as
well. Provided that no really creepy
people show up and try to keep me from doing so. The ride is deceptively fast, I think. It’s also extremely smooth, as I can never
really feel any bumps. I honestly think
I’ll enjoy this ride. But, of course,
I’m always prepared for any irony that may present itself.
So
quiet. But my mind is screaming a
million miles a minute.
……………………………………………………
Late
night. Just stopped in Williston, ND. Man with ridiculous mullet and family just
boarded. I promise you, this guy is a
damn good example of the epitome of white trash America. Comes complete with ultra-blonde hair, pale
skin, blue eyes, and foul mouth, which takes three syllables to say any
four-letter words he knows. Current
syllable count is twelve. Intellect
excluded.
I’m
going to sleep. Maybe I’ll wake up to
Miles in the morning.
*Don’t
ask, it’s not me.
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