Oct 30, 2006

Transylvania Station 6-500

I lost most of my lunch today while trying to catch a train.

I love how words can be used, misused, and abused. What I've just told you can easily be construed as "I vomited today while waiting to board a passenger locomotive." What actually happened was THIS:

My office faces the interstate, which parallels a set of train tracks, so I get to see up to six different camels, er, trains, a day. And since I'm a train buff, I like to watch the engines go by, and when the rare opportunity presents, I like to photograph them.

Seems this morning, 'round about 11:30, I see a pair of rare-coloured locomotives stop just before the intersection right up the road, so I leapt to my feet, sat down again and clocked out, then hopped back up, raced to my (nearby) house and grabbed cameras and came flying back. My hope was that the train was going to STAY there for the fifteen minute round trip. My hopes were dashed.

I get back to the intersection to see the slow passing of cars up the track, engines nowhere in sight. Undaunted, I wheeled my steed to intercept and went tearing up the highway to cut them off at the next nice intersection, which serendipitously is more picturesque. Upon arriving I unpacked my gear, feverishly worked my way up to the vantage point I wanted, prepped my cameras, climbed the embankment, and looked up the eternity-straight tracks to see.....

nothing.

Absolutely. Freaking. Nothing.

No engines bearing down on me, no bright running light perched high above a locomotive cabin. Not even one of those little two-man hand-carts. Nothing but empty tracks and falling leaves.

Then, ghostly enough, I heard it. Nowhere to be seen, I was standing in the middle of the tracks and sure didn't notice it, but I heard it. I could even feel it's rumbling wheels through the soles of my boots. It seems that unbeknownst to me there exists a spur line, a turnoff if you will, somewhere in that five or six mile stretch that leads over to the oxbow of the Red River and several construction sites. Obviously my train had taken a detour.

So, beaten, I loaded my gear back up and headed to McD's for lunch, and from there back to the office for my last 15 or so minutes of lunchtime freedom.

To see, blocking the intersection as effectively as only a parked train can block an intersection, a parked train. MY parked train. Blocking the intersection.

Seems the train I heard was ANOTHER train on the spur line that was moving out of the way, and my train was waiting to get in there, so the engineer decided to be a complete and utter barstard by blocking the intersection. And since I don't have the liberty nor the wallet to just ignore work in favor of a really choice photo I went back to the office and, eating my double fish fillet sandwich hold the cheese and small fries I blog about it, instead.

Maybe I'll vomit later.

3 comments:

Stucco said...

"Coloured"? Okay there mister Brit-spelling Little Lord Fautnleroy... Heh

Nancy Dancehall said...

You have GOT to meet Gerald...

Anonymous said...

I solly. (I'm sorry).