There's No Place Like Home

Saturday, September 7, 2013:

My train ride back to Santa Barbara turned out to be an endurance run. I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t like delayed train rides but this one was different. The train was crowded for the first leg of the trip and I had a somewhat worn-out seat that had very little cushion left in it. I couldn’t find a position that my back agreed with. It started getting dark over the pass between Eugene and Chemult but I tried my damnedest nonetheless to get some sleep. My mate on the seat next to me was an agreeable young man, who was getting off the train in Klamath Falls Oregon, so I grit my teeth and endure… gritted and endured. We were side-tracked several times before we arrived in Klamath Falls and didn't pull into the station over an hour late. 

A drunk couple got into an argument in the dining car sometime after Eugene (They'd been pounding the hooch down since starting out in Seattle: that would be about as much time as it took for me to get a good buzz going... and good and belligerent). The passengers in the dining car and the conductors had enough of the man’s loud and abusive crap sometime after Chemult, Oregon. The girl was allowed to stay but the man would be 86’d at Klamath. It is always a sad thing to me to see the change in personality after one gets busted this way. Until we got to Klamath Falls (about two hours), three or four Assistant Conductors (I think that’s what they’re called)... they all sat with the man about four seats behind me. 

The man realized he had no idea where Klamath Falls is on the map. He began asking the A.C.’s things like; Question: How far is Klamath from California? Answer: Not far. Question: Is the station there open all night? Answer: No. Question: Will I be allowed to take the next train from there? Answer: Yes. Question: When will the next train come? Answer: Schedule says 10PM. Question: Are there hotels near-by? Answer: No. Question: How about a Greyhound? Answer: No.

 He started apologizing profusely after the realization dawned on him that, not only was he royally screwed… shipwrecked and alone, but this was going to be a very expensive hangover. It is one thing to piss off a bartender and get 86’d from the local pub, but to be 86’d from a train is another story altogether because the poor soul is abandoned by the tracks in a God forsaken place in the middle of nowhere like Bumfock, Oregon. On top of that there is absolutely no reprieve from the misery "one too many" caused. On a positive note: At least there wasn't a squad car awaiting his arrival. The only thing worse than being 86'd of a train in Bumfock, Oregon is to be 86'd from a train in Bumfock, Oregon, and, to wake up in a jail in Bumfock, Oregon.

            Well, after Klamath (by this time it was 11:30 making us an hour and a half late) everything returned to normal. I had two seats to myself so I stretched-out to get a nap and I finally started to nod-off around 2 AM. We arrived in Chico where a very… very… obese woman (at least 350 lbs) broke a leg after missing the step debarking from the train. The fire truck and EMT showed up and it took at least another hour and eight men get her on the gurney and load her up with hydraulic lift into the ambulance.

            My train-ride reading: "The Fobbit" by David Adams. If anyone is interested in one soldier’s experience deployed in Iraq, this book seems to me to be as realistic as Catch 22 was for WWII, albeit not quite as cynical. It is humorous, if one has ever been in the military, and some (but not all) civilians might get it too. I caught myself laughing out loud at the most inappropriate times and some fellow passengers could have considered me quite insane. I arrived in Santa Barbara exhausted around 7:45 PM. (only 1 ½ hours late). My sponsor and good friend, Joe S., picked me up at the Station… Thanks Joe… and I went straight home and to bed after calling Bon Bon to say, “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

            I’ll call Mom to check on Dad’s condition soon. I will write about that experience later… when I digest it.

           So today I'll just click my heels, get myself to a meeting, and say, "There's no place like home... There's no place like home... There's no place like home!"

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