The early early train 

This morning I’m awake at ungodly hours. The kind of hours most people dream about, or are in a catatonic state of dreaming.

A sequence of events has me taking the early early train.

E times 2.

Early squared.

Whichever way you slice it, it means I’m on the big green chariot a half hour earlier than my usual jaunt.

Surely, with 3 minutes to spare, the early early train will be ready to receive it’s only passenger on track one, yes?


It’s not here.

I look over at track 2, and see that annoying 6:48 train, being all judgy.

I wonder, does that train ever move?

Part of me wants to scream at Mr. Big shot 6:48 and tell him to quit glaring at me!

I’m about to say something insulting when I hear a slight variation of a familiar puttering noise.

The early early train arrives in all its glory.

In my transit world of delusion, in part because I’m experiencing my own catatonic state,  I decide to personify the GO trains.

I’d like to believe the 6:18, my usual chariot, saunters to the station platform from parts unknown because it was busy partying all night.

Just like me.


I meant the saunter, not the partying.

I stopped attending parties out of respect for the disbanded S Club 7.

They really did throw the best parties.


I digress.

In train world, the annoying 6:48 is the responsible parent who doesn’t really go out.

It sits at home and casts judgment on others.

Just like a nosy yuppie neighbour, coworker or anyone else who might be offended.

Ha ha.

There ain’t no party for a 6:48 train, either.

I should be getting royalties for mentioning these people.

But then I could commute.

If commuting is considered wrong, I don’t ever wanna be right.


Chugging right along, the early early train is the equivalent of a senior citizen.

Having never ridden this train before, I can confidently make this observation.

You see, this train approaches and it makes noises I’ve never heard coming from a train before.

A motorized phlegm cough has me thinking this train has arrived fresh from its dialysis treatment and  currently on its 9th cigarette.

This photo is shaded in attempts of providing a visual assist for how old it actually sounds.

You know, like an old fashioned Vaudeville silent film, but adding the coughing noises from a modern era theatre.

Perhaps this train might benefit from some Glucerna.

I actually have a Glucerna story which we can save for another day.

I board Old Yeller.

I notice the early early train guy also happens to be the 5:28 homeward bound train guy.

Half of my feels empathetic, the other half jealous.
He gets paid to ride the rails like I’ve always wanted.

He works over a 13 hour shift.

It puts things in perspective.

I’m thankful for my own hours and commute.

Maybe you should be too.

And that’s one to grow on.



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