with someone, it might as well be with a lady who’s nice enough to offer me a first-class ticket.
It’s not easy maneuvering down the aisle, but I only bump one person in the knee and he had his leg really far out into the aisle to begin with. Now that the station is far behind, the train has picked up speed. I try not to look as the scenery whizzes by. Throwing up right now would not make me very popular with my fellow passengers.
After realizing I’m going in the wrong direction and turning around, I finally find myself in front of the door marked CLUB CAR . I press the button and the door glides opens. I blink and stare, wide-eyed. I might as well be on a whole different train! The seats look twice as wide and ten times as soft as the one I was just sitting in. The walls are dark wood rather than the white plastic that I’d seen as I walked the length of the train. Silk curtains billow down from the windows, swaying in time with the motion of the train.
My arrival has caused pretty much everyone in the car to look up from their papers, books, knitting, and wine sipping. I can’t help noticing the white tablecloths on the seat-back trays. A young woman in a fancier version of the conductor’s outfit approaches me. She places a bottle of red wine back on the little counter at the front of the car and wipes her hands with a cloth.
“Can I help you?” she asks. “Are you lost?”
I shake my head but I’m not sure what to say. Maybe this was a mistake. I don’t even know the nice lady’s name. “Um, I have a ticket. Kind of.”
“She’s with me,” a voice calls out from the back of the car. The glamorous woman in the scarf leans into the aisle and waves her extra ticket. The conductor (waitress? both?) leads me to the back, where I smile gratefully at the woman.
“Darling!” she says, throwing her arms around me. “I’m so glad to see you! I was wondering when you’d get here.” As she pulls away I think she’s winking at me but it’s hard to tell with all the makeup.
“Um, thanks! Yeah, you, too!”
The conductor/waitress smiles. “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like anything to drink? Some soda?” I never get soda at home. “Yes, please.”
She takes my suitcase and places it in the wooden cabinet above our heads, right next to a first aid kit and extra pillows. I think for a second about Dad putting it across from me before, but it’s different back here. Much safer. This is first class!
I smile politely at the man on the other side of the aisle reading his newspaper. He nods politely in return. And my parents think I’m antisocial! I plop down in the seat next to my new best friend and turn to thank her. Her only response is a gentle snore. Guess those painkillers must have kicked in. I admit I’m kind of relieved. Even though I no longer believe that talking to strangers will turn my tongue green, it’s best not to take unnecessary chances.
The time speeds by much quicker than I’d have thought possible. Between the iPod, my books, the three-course lunch, and the generous helping of free snacks and soda, I hardly even notice the time passing. And those painkillers must be pretty strong because my new BFF hasn’t woken up.
And the best part? Halfway through the ride, the conductor/waitress notices me tugging on my bracelet and offers to help. I hold out my arm eagerly. I guess I’m not really unaccompanied anymore anyway! She snips the bracelet right off with a pair of scissors from the first aid kit.
So
much better. I rub the thick red dent and watch my hand slowly return to its usual handlike color.
The gentle motion of the train is hard to resist, and I drift in and out of sleep. Every time the train stops at another station I jerk awake. My seatmate sleeps through it all.
I’ve been putting off using the bathroom but those four sodas have left me no choice. Heeding Dad’s words, I grab my backpack and bring it with me. It feels unnecessary — I can’t imagine a
It’s not easy maneuvering down the aisle, but I only bump one person in the knee and he had his leg really far out into the aisle to begin with. Now that the station is far behind, the train has picked up speed. I try not to look as the scenery whizzes by. Throwing up right now would not make me very popular with my fellow passengers.
After realizing I’m going in the wrong direction and turning around, I finally find myself in front of the door marked CLUB CAR . I press the button and the door glides opens. I blink and stare, wide-eyed. I might as well be on a whole different train! The seats look twice as wide and ten times as soft as the one I was just sitting in. The walls are dark wood rather than the white plastic that I’d seen as I walked the length of the train. Silk curtains billow down from the windows, swaying in time with the motion of the train.
My arrival has caused pretty much everyone in the car to look up from their papers, books, knitting, and wine sipping. I can’t help noticing the white tablecloths on the seat-back trays. A young woman in a fancier version of the conductor’s outfit approaches me. She places a bottle of red wine back on the little counter at the front of the car and wipes her hands with a cloth.
“Can I help you?” she asks. “Are you lost?”
I shake my head but I’m not sure what to say. Maybe this was a mistake. I don’t even know the nice lady’s name. “Um, I have a ticket. Kind of.”
“She’s with me,” a voice calls out from the back of the car. The glamorous woman in the scarf leans into the aisle and waves her extra ticket. The conductor (waitress? both?) leads me to the back, where I smile gratefully at the woman.
“Darling!” she says, throwing her arms around me. “I’m so glad to see you! I was wondering when you’d get here.” As she pulls away I think she’s winking at me but it’s hard to tell with all the makeup.
“Um, thanks! Yeah, you, too!”
The conductor/waitress smiles. “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like anything to drink? Some soda?” I never get soda at home. “Yes, please.”
She takes my suitcase and places it in the wooden cabinet above our heads, right next to a first aid kit and extra pillows. I think for a second about Dad putting it across from me before, but it’s different back here. Much safer. This is first class!
I smile politely at the man on the other side of the aisle reading his newspaper. He nods politely in return. And my parents think I’m antisocial! I plop down in the seat next to my new best friend and turn to thank her. Her only response is a gentle snore. Guess those painkillers must have kicked in. I admit I’m kind of relieved. Even though I no longer believe that talking to strangers will turn my tongue green, it’s best not to take unnecessary chances.
The time speeds by much quicker than I’d have thought possible. Between the iPod, my books, the three-course lunch, and the generous helping of free snacks and soda, I hardly even notice the time passing. And those painkillers must be pretty strong because my new BFF hasn’t woken up.
And the best part? Halfway through the ride, the conductor/waitress notices me tugging on my bracelet and offers to help. I hold out my arm eagerly. I guess I’m not really unaccompanied anymore anyway! She snips the bracelet right off with a pair of scissors from the first aid kit.
So
much better. I rub the thick red dent and watch my hand slowly return to its usual handlike color.
The gentle motion of the train is hard to resist, and I drift in and out of sleep. Every time the train stops at another station I jerk awake. My seatmate sleeps through it all.
I’ve been putting off using the bathroom but those four sodas have left me no choice. Heeding Dad’s words, I grab my backpack and bring it with me. It feels unnecessary — I can’t imagine a
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