Train Tracks

Let's hope that my trip from DeKalb to Chicago is so way less eventful than the one in the opposite direction. Because, you see, I have a triumph to disclose: I have survived my first all night-er. No, we weren't doing homework. By the time the whole group finished being practically ripped apart by the drama in the show the second season of which we had been engrossed in, it was about 5. And, I mean, once you get to five, why not just go all the way? So, we did.

But, you see, on the way here, we weren't so successful. Let's see, we were running late for our first train, so we hurried, hurried, hurried. We hurried so much that just after we had congratulated each other with a handshake and acquainted ourselves with the nice Arctic fishermen from Alaska across the aisle, yes, even as we sat feeling oh so safe in our newly found train seats, we heard this from the conductor:

"You're on the wrong train. You're goin' the wrong direction."

Did you guess that wrong was the key word?

So, we looked at each other as terror crept into our eyes. I have to admit that in the panic, all I could do was laugh. As we sat on the new train station's platform with snow falling on us, all I could do was laugh. I laughed as we called Mr. Pan to come rescue us. He came, and we survived waiting in the 7-11 that seemed oh so much more of a murky character than the major train station (which I had been warned about), and we tried round two.

This time, we got on the right train. Mr. Pan took us all the way onto the train, got us seated, and went on his way.

Can you guess that "hero" is now the key word?

Hehe! I wish we had a picture...I can picture so clearly looking at Amy at that new train platform with all our bags, all alone, snow getting mixed in with her hair. It was hilarious. And an adventure. And no way in the world I would trade it for being twenty minutes early and getting on the right train in the first place.