Better a Witty Fool than a Foolish Wit

Inner Workings of My Twisted Mind.

I Found My People…

They were on a train the whole time.

So I left the Bay Area on New Year’s Day, sad to be apart from my beloved San Francisco (I’ve come to the conclusion I’m going to have to be fabulously wealthy so I can have a place in L.A., S.F., New York and London. Instead of being bi-coastal I’ll be quad-habitative), but glad to be going back to my lesser beloved, though still loved, Los Angeles. Instead of heaving my too heavy bag onto an airplane or renting an automatic transmission vehicle (which I can’t stand) to drive down the 101 (since I also can’t stand the middle of our wonderful state), I decided to try something new. I took the train.

Whenever I fly to San Francisco or take the bus or BART or MUNI within the Bay Area, I’m always struck by how many people carry books in their hands, intently focused on them as they wait for a flight to take off. Reading quietly as they jostle back and forth patiently waiting to get to their destination. Los Angeles, on the other hand, has a decidedly less literary lease on life. Sure, the people I’m surrounded with, for the most part, are avid readers, but I also work in a bookstore. Sitting in LAX, however, there are a plethora of blackberrys and iPhones, a veritable sea of portable DVD players and computer screens filled with the faces of movie stars. I’ve always suspected that there had to be more than just the crew of astonishingly brilliant minds I work with in the Los Angeles area and I found them on the train.

That’s right, as we all sat back for our long, yet relaxing trip down the insatiable California coast, the group of Amtrak riders were transported to another time. A simpler time (if that ever existed) when travel was long and tedious, sure it feels like flying across the country or the world takes forever, but in contrast those trips are brief little blips. A time when the train passed by small towns and villages that have long been forgotten as highways and interstates and airports took over.

As I sat on the train, looking out the window at the fallow fields, the lone country houses, the small main streets of towns I’d never known about, I heard a girl tell someone that she could do this for another week. That she could sit here on this train car and loose track of time and space and distance for as as long as it would take to drive across the whole of America. And I couldn’t help but feel like I finally found a place for wanderers like me.

Peace, Love, and Trains,


January 4, 2009 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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