Train 1

It’s a good thing I bought a chocolate-dipped shortbread cookie at Au Bon Pain when I was at Union Station, because by the time Elaine (who is a therapist from New York, heading to Birmingham to visit her father) and I finished our dining car dinner, neither of us had room for dessert. I will want it though, before I go to bed. I know myself.

I am in roomette #1, car 1910, on the Amtrak Crescent, destination New Orleans. To be traveling alone is, in and of itself, such a novelty that I’ve almost forgotten I’m in a perimenopausal fog, with a brain full of potholes. Yes, wow...just me. What does that feel like? I’m going to have to stop and think about it.

That, in fact, is half my purpose--what does it feel like to be alone? So far, I’m too distracted by Viewliner Car built-in toilets, fold-down sinks, and Words with Friends on the iPhone to even be sure. But I may have a clue by four days from now, when I fly home on Southwest.

Across from me, in roomette #2, is a couple from the UK. I would estimate that the majority of this car is filled with couples from the UK, in fact. They are going to New Orleans to board a cruise ship bound for Jamaica and other ports. I am going to New Orleans because that’s where this train stops, and also I’ve never seen it before.

It is 8:17, and I’m ready for Rob, the car attendant, to convert my roomette into nighttime format. Because I’m probably not going to check the lounge car to see if all the UKers are partying it up tonight. I’ll just sit here, and maybe knit a hat (which destiny will insist be too large for a human head,) and eat shortbread, and start reading a Kindle book (which will not be on my Kindle, but rather on my iPhone,) and watch the night lights of Virginia roll by. There...there was a MacDonalds.