Buses I have no great feelings about, but I love taking the train! It always feels special somehow.
As mentioned on this blog before, I take great pleasure in going on a journey surrounded by a pile of belongings and snacks. For this weekend trip I packed my new art journal book, bag of pens, scissors, glue, photos to cut up, research papers to read, computer, iPod (recently rediscovered with all my old music on it), water bottle, candy, some clothes.
The bus was full of the same people as always--Guy On The Phone, Lady Talking Two Decibels Louder Than Required, Person Coughing On The Back of Your Head. In the bathroom of the bus station a cleaning person banged on one of the doors, yelling "you can't sleep in here!" and in the stall next to me a woman threw up violently. This is just the way buses are.
I transferred to the train at Penn Station in New York, where I entered Train World, a totally different experience.
I don't know what it is that makes the train seen special to me. I like the sound, the big windows, the view of the ugly side of things--the backs of buildings, the graffiti wars, chain link fences. My absolute favorite is train with a table, which I was able to wrangle in the "cafe car" on the way home.
Now I am on my way home. I finished the train journey and am back on the bus, which is surprisingly empty and lacking the usual suspects. It just got dark and I am typing this on my phone screen while I drink a coffee. I can see the outline of the trees along the road. My bag is on the seat next to me tucked under my arm, full of options should I want them.
For now, though, I am happy to sit and watch the silhouettes slip by.
