Good evening. On the, demographically skewed, 4:30PM out of the City.
New regulars mixed with heretofore unrecognized gems tonight leaving the City.
I must start off by thanking everyone for taking the time to read these postings. This medium has been around for a number of years now, but for me, it’s like learning a new instrument – practice makes perfect. But, I wouldn’t do this at all without your continued interest. Please let me know if you like or dislike something.
A crowded evening in the front car. A friendly gentleman of some considerable mass was wondering if I was saving the seat for an awaiting friend. I told him no and please sit down. He sat, thankfully, on the aisle side facing the direction travel. I am comforted that the chances that this car will flip on it’s side has diminished considerably.
Basil Fawlty is here, sitting four rows back. He is wearing his cowboy hat. His head is down in a pose that makes me think he’s reading from an iFlameNebulapod. BF is sitting window side. Next to him is the Ambassador to Thailand for the Midwest Office. Both look like they want to eat at Click Fil’a tonight. Perhaps with each other?
Sitting right in front of me is Chancellor Angela Merkel, taking break from dealing with the Aegean and Iberian economies. Ironically, she is glancing over a takeout menu from a popular, nay iconic, neighborhood restaurant in Greektown. She looks pleased. Could this be the much desired respite to the Greek Austerity measures? One can only hope.
Now, on the way home, I usually do not take the Quiet Car, though most of the time, fellow commuters stay to themselves.
Sitting in the other jump seat are three people, two of them are having a cordial but loud conversation. One woman, who’s early-30ish looking son is sitting silently and looking like yet he never left the Seattle Grunge scecne, is ranting about the myriad medical ailments plaguing her father (his Grandfather).
She chatting to a family friend or neighbor who just happened to board this train car. This ranting woman sounds and looks like Danny DeVito’s mother from ‘Throw Mommy From the Train’. The family friend looks like a very butch biker Mom with short cropped hair so as to easily fit her helmet.
The boy-man listens to the pair and interjects into the converation in a futile attempt to win some validation as an adult, equal, intellectual and contributing member of the conversation. Unfortunately, his opinion is given a barely polite acknowledgement, as the two women continue describing, in clinical detail, the types, colors, consistency and original sources of fluids emanating from the aforementioned Grandfather’s various dysfunctional orifices.
Bruce Campbell of Evil Dead 2 fame is sitting in a chair on the upper deck. Across the aisle from my ballast friend, along window, is the goateed young George Carlin, looking very handsome. At least three Replicants, two Terminators, the unpainted members of Blue Man Group, one renegade member of the Emperor’s Clone Army, two GOP pollsters looking for work, the Winter Witch from Narnia, and Jeff Probst are all here.
Happy Tuesday. Safe Travels.
