Steven Gould: Tomorrow I take choo-choo.
Rachel Harper: Where to?
Steven Gould: overnight train to LA.
Steven Gould: I got a sleeper compartment and =everything=.
Steven Gould: I just gotta remember to wear the right shoes.
Steven Gould: Every train movie I’ve ever seen, they end up on the roof of the train and the wrong shoes could be very bad.
Rachel Harper: Very true, AND bring a pistol.
Steven Gould: Nah. They say you’re not allowed to, so I’m bringing a bullwhip.
Rachel Harper: If it’s a bullwhip, then you’ll need a cowboy hat to match. Also a kerchif.
Steven Gould: And a leather bag. And I can’t shave. Not for four days.
Rachel Harper: Exactly.
Steven Gould: Hopefully deodorant is allowed.
Rachel Harper: Abolutely not.
Steven Gould: You’re old school.
Steven Gould: Can I post this conversation at Eat Our Brains?
Rachel Harper: Ha! Yeah, sure.
Steven Gould: Okay. Laura’s calling me to supper now. ttfn
Rachel Harper: Bye!

I will be riding Southwest Chief tomorrow into Los Angeles. The train I will be riding on has already left Chicago and will (hopefully) roll into Albuquerque around 4:10 pm (though when I just checked, it was running about 17 minutes late and they expect it to depart my fair city about 37 mintues late.) As I post this, it is probably in Kansas City.

I was going to do the whole trip in coach as it costs about $500 more (round trip) to get one of the sleeper roomettes, but Amtrak called me up on Friday and offered the roomettes for $200 (round trip.) This is a pretty good deal as it comes with meals, privacy, beds.  I’ll get on the train, have a lovely meal, write for a while in the privacy of my roomette, climb into bed later, wake up, shower, have breakfast, and, about 8:15 am Pacific Time, step off at Union Station in L.A.

The last time I went on a train for overnight, it was a trip from Bangkok to Malaysia in 1966, approximately 48 hours through the jungle, no A/C. No sleeper car. No dining car meals. The vendors would hold their wares up to the windows at the stops and you bought fruit and fried rice and whatever.  I’m pretty sure that bathrooms featured a direct drop onto the tracks.

It was an interesting trip but I hope for a higher degree of comfort this time.

My Friday post, from L.A. may have video and pictures.

If I don’t fall off the train.

Doug Potter pointed this out to me.

Lemon Chiffon Pie

Some food makes promises.

When I was in first grade, my mother started doing temp jobs. Within a few years she would be working full time. I hated it, of course. It meant that on days she had a job I would go to Teresa’s house. Teresa was my best friend, and I liked her mom, who was a war bride from Britain and spoke with an English accent. We both lived in slab homes, 1000 square foot brick ranches that could have been right out of Levittown. But I preferred to go home. Even though I lived the farthest from the bus stop of anyone (a whopping seven houses.) Everyone would peel off to their house and I would be left walking by myself. I remember one snowy day I looked back and saw only my tracks. I was six, carrying a red plaid book satchel (no back packs back then.) I’m sure my legs were cold since we had to wear dresses. At the bus stop in the morning I squat and pull my skirt over my legs.

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