slumberparty

i have a recurring feeling which wakes me from sleep on the night trains. it becomes apparent and undeniable that earth is but a fragile bubble in an immensely vast universe. slightly terrifying, it strikes me at how strange, beautiful, mysterious life is on earth. connecting threads across the us, portable dvd players replay comedy, action, drama, and horror; cell phones connect people to their people and there bizness, headphones play tunes, some snore, some talk, some read, and everyone makes odd expressions as they test their agility to the teeter and bobble of the moving train. one big slumber party interrupted from time to time by the conductors announcements or the coming and going of new passengers. of all the coach cars, it's pretty quiet in the back of the bus where they put everyone who's riding the long haul. one man was exclaiming to everyone how he had just returned from india where he was meeting his internet girlfriend and how he bought a suitcase full of dvd's because they were only 75 cents! good thing the american dollar is still good for something. two women insisted that i switch seats with them, one hour later they insist that we switch back once again moving our luggage from one side of the train to the other, in the morning i find that one of the lady's gold sandals were still stashed in my seat. two teenage girls are chatterboxing in the seat in front of me. they have a bouquet of red roses wilting under their seat. breakfast on the chief was a omelet, potatoes, and biscuit with orange juice and coffee. the delicate dishware rivals any fine chinaware, with the exception this is molded plastic. as space is limited, the diner car always tries to maximize seating. my booth was shared by a young man in a leather jacket traveling to DC after visiting his family in LA, and two railroad workers traveling to work and catching up on the past couple years, sudden deaths of friends, kids having kids, marriages, and a full report on how much their children are still financially dependent on them into their young adulthood. at high noon we roll into albuquerque. i'm amazed by how well the percussion from Fever Ray accompanies the 4 corners landscape. service stop. enough time to stroll around downtown. a lot of sushi bars (or perhaps that's just my perception). twiddled a navajo flute, and admired kachina dolls. fresh air stretch the legs pit stop. contentedly gazing out my window i've spotted numerous birds, a squirrel, a railcar converted into a house, a tree carved to look like a franciscan monk, a variety of homes and industrial parks, people (some of which are waving), dirty words written in spray paint, reminders of how vast and varied the american landscape is, and innumerable trash heaps of dated appliances, scrap metal, building supplies, and car parts.