Archive – Day 19
Wednesday, April 28, 1993
Looking Back...
I skipped another day. I’m not sure what we even did that day. That might have been the day we went to visit some family friends, but I can’t remember. And now I never will, because I couldn’t be bothered to pick up a pencil that day. Bah.
On Day 19 went hopped on the train and left Orlando.
Another day without writing! What has become of me? Actually, I think I was in somewhat of a neutral mood, and also there are space considerations. Look how much room there is left in the book. Five days on the train, and I have to condense it into twenty-two pages. So I guess I didn’t feel like taking up any precious space yesterday.
The train comes in at noon, and then we’re off. Two more trains — one being the Cailfornia Zephyr — will take us back and drop us off Sunday morning. But, before that we have a great stretch of travel ahead of us. All by train.
The train which we are now on. Yes, our journey has begun again, the great trek north and west. The return to all I happily left behind, and all I regretfully come back to. Troubles, problems, worries, and I only hope I can manage them as well as in the past.
Out the window the greenery is once again overwhelming. So much of it. Thick, rich forests, yet without mountains. It seems empty and meaningless. All this gone to waste. The train is too bumpy to write.
The train left Jacksonville at a quarter to five. We were supposed to have left at four o’clock. So now we are roughly an hour and a half behind schedule. And this is still the bumpiest train so far. We need the self-centering Z-2000.
I am now indulging in the latest of gourmet masterpieces: a work of art entitled, “The Better Pizza”. I wouldn’t want to meet the pizza this is better than. The sauce has no taste! Whatsoever! I taste crust, I taste cheese (mediocre if anything) but I taste no sauce. I see it, it’s there, but it does not register on my taste buds.
We just discovered a label on the pizza box saying it passed USDA inspection. That label was conveniently and mysteriously covered over on our boxes.
Right now, well into Georgia, we are at the point where we should have been at the time we left Jacksonville. We can now see exactly how far behind we are. And to think — it was only ten minutes late at Orlando.
Walking through this train is a horror and an ordeal. Especially since I had the misfortune to attempt it during the rush to dinner. The hallways in the sleeping cars (all four of them) are roughly two feet wide, and everybody is going in both directions at once.
I can’t see why anyone would want a sleeper car. To be stuck in a small, rank, solitary room... and pay extra for it! Madness. At least in coach there are plenty of people (hopefully interesting) around to keep yourself occupied with. In a private room you spend all your time with you. Frightening.
