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.
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.
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.
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.
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.