train of consciousness

February 21, 2010 at 10:58 am · Filed under by rohini, travel

I have spent the past two days partying it up in Washington D.C., the beautiful capital of this beautiful nation.  Here’s how I got here.

Over the past four years, every time I visited Yang, I typically took the Peter Pan Express bus to New York.  This time, however, I opted for the overnight Amtrak train from Providence to Union Station.  Now, I know the train seems like a somewhat outmoded form of transportation compared to all the high-flying speedy jets we see today (my friend Megan incidentally arrived by plane).  But it still held a bit of classical charm for me with a North by Northwest kind of sex appeal.  I fancied the thought of running into a Cary Grant type and necking in a hidden corner behind the bathroom.  I boarded the train full of romantic ideas about how the next eight hours would pass.  When I got off the word “sexy” had completely disappeared from my train vocabulary.

On the overnight train, most people board, put their bags away, recline their seats and pass out.  I, however, stayed awake to complete a homework assignment I had put off until the last minute.  So, by the time I decided to put my books away and call it a night most everyone else was in a deep sleep.  As I was dozing off I noticed a woman slip into the seat behind me, explaining to the train conductor that her daughter had kicked her out of her seat.  At the time, this didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me, but I was too tired to bother with further mental inquiry.  I propped my jacket under my head and shut my eyes.

Not even five minutes had passed before I woke to a hideously unattractive sound.  The noise, which resembled what I imagined a rat being swallowed by the train’s engine might sound like, was so loud it startled me into an upright stance.  I checked around to see if anyone else had woken to this sound.  Nope, just  me.  Then, I looked back.  To my complete horror, this noise was no engine malfunction, but a monstrous snore.  The woman who took her seat behind me was no train passenger, but the eighth and ugliest of Snow White’s dwarfs, Snorey.

I sat in my train seat, unable to fall asleep again, appalled by what I was heaing.  How could I be the only unfortunate soul suffering from this auditory torture?  It was no wonder Snorey’s daughter had asked her to move.  If my mother sounded like a congested elephant I too would abandon her on a public train.

People who snore should not be allowed to ride trains.  Correction.  People who snore should not be allowed to ride the overnight train.  I simply cannot understand why someone with an embarrassing condition such as loud snoring would put themselves in a social situation where they couldn’t help but display their blocked nasal passages.  I have terrible allergies and loud sneezes.  You don’t see me cart wheeling through the public botanical gardens.  It just doesn’t make any sense to me.

After five minutes of attempting to fall asleep, I gave up.  I couldn’t sit in front of Snorey.  Putting my boots on, I stood up and searched for other open seats on the train.  Looking left and right all I could see were pairs of seats taken up by outstretched bodies; there was nowhere for me to escape to.   Lucky daughter was smart enough to kick out her mother when there were still places to sit.  Now I would have to endure a sleepless, noisy night.

Just when I thought I might violently recline my seat to scare Snorey out of her sleep, the snoring subsided.  Amazed, I turned around to see an open book being flipped through.  I don’t know who the author of that book is, but bless his soul.  My guardian angel.  He prevented me from committing murder that night because another two minutes and I would have strangled that bitch.

I returned to my sleep thinking after Snorey, nothing could have made the train ride worse.  I stood corrected.  At the Stamford, CT train station an older gentleman wearing a suit boarded the train and sat across the aisle from me.  I smiled at him as he sat down thinking a friendly face is always a great way to start a train ride.  Had I known what he would later do, I would not have been so kind.

Once again, I began to doze off curling my body into a ball around my jacket.  Only five minutes into my sleep I heard a clip noise from across the aisle.  I thought I recognized this sound, but then I told myself, No there’s no way that’s what I heard. Then, clip clip clip. I woke up and looked over to see that yes, indeed, the gentleman in the suit was clipping his fingernails at 3 am on an overnight train.  What THE fuck?  Did I mistakenly step onto a train of passengers who should be social outcasts?  The one question I did not allow my mind to wander to was where exactly this man disposed of his nail clippings.  That was too much for me.

Because of Nail Clipper and Snorey I arrived in DC with sleepy eyes.  My overnight train was not quite conducive to sleeping.  But I am now having great fun with the Yangster and company, so the nail clipping and awful snoring were totally worth it.  I know now not to expect so much from my return train ride.  Though, my patience only runs so far.  I swear if someone clips his nails again, there will be a second murder on the Orient Express.

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