This morning on my way to work the gates at the railroad tracks on Oltorf Blvd. dropped just as I was pulling up to them. I no doubt groaned as I came to a stop, but my mood lightened considerably when I saw that it was the Amtrak Texas Eagle passenger train. It is a short train after all.
Having a front row seat as it sped by I imagined the passengers in the dining car enjoying a leisurely breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon on fine china with white table cloths and attentive servers in smart uniforms making sure that everyone’s coffee cup is topped off.
A train trip is on my bucket list. It really doesn’t matter where. Just the idea of not being in a hurry to get somewhere holds a huge appeal to me. Taking in the scenery; let’s face it, it all pretty much looks the same at 30,000 feet, enjoying convivial cocktails with your fellow passengers in the lounge car before dinner, and fabricating detailed back stories about the strikingly beautiful blond woman sitting across from you whose smile let’s you know that she doesn’t want to talk about it and the brooding gentleman with perfect hair and wearing a tie clip that appears to be made from a human tooth sitting across the aisle who obviously KNOWS THINGS.
And of course it would also be a great excuse to buy a new set of matched Hartmann luggage and a jaunty fedora.
I'm Just Being Frank 