Trains Carry Loads

A little bit of something. I suppose that’s how everything begins. Things can seem so simple when they are written right before your eyes.

I wrote the following on a napkin while making my way to San Diego from San Luis Obispo via the glorious American public transit system:

So they say, or so I’ve heard many good ideas start/begin on napkins. Well here I am on a nine hour train ride back to San Diego from San Luis Obispo; writing on this fucking napkin. Oh, and might I mention that I am currently finishing a bottle of red wine, the time is exactly 4:35 pm on the 27th day of April, 2008. I have just eaten a really shitty hot dog accompanied by a large arrogant bastard ale. What I am eluding to is, that there are only so many ways you can end up writing anything longer than a telephone number on a napkin; undoubtedly a majority of writing done on napkins involves inebriation of some sorts. I make this assumption on the fact that if you were planning on writing some shit down, you’d probably be prepared.

At least I always try to carry a pen, a habit I developed as an adolescent stoner. Looks like were approaching Santa Barbara now; Train might be getting a bit more crowded soon. The irony about to be written brings me great delight in my eased state of mind; by this I mean that I must stop my train of thought to indulge in some “standard” reality and finish my wine. I’ll be right back…cant exactly jump ship. Oh and I ought to continue reading this newspaper I’ve been reading. I will be writing about it later because it is very influential and motivating to this “moment”.

Is it bad (form) to switch subjects in the middle of a “literary piece”? Well, Depending on the style of the piece it doesn’t seem like it should be too big of a deal.

Travel is essential. Travel is essential because human society today as advanced as it seems, does not have a system available to replace learning thru 1st hand experience. Throughout my 21 years, 6 months and 24 days on this rock called earth, of which only the last year can I say that my brain has been allowed to function without self-impairment of some kind, have I been able to further affirm my belief that travel is one of the most valuable things anyone can do.

It’s not because of this short trip from San Diego to San Luis Obispo, which has hardly lasted over 12 hrs, that I put ink on this napkin. Rather it is the process of this journey, traveling on this slow-ass train, looking out and in on people who unknowingly have played a minuscule yet undoubtedly influential role in my life and perhaps now that you’re reading this writing, your life as well.

It may seem to some unlikely or impossible that people you have never met or seen could impact your life in such a direct, yet indirect way. Despite the potential for disbelief in this “connection” I will continue. It is these people; people everywhere, you and me, that make anything and everything possible. Not only for you, but also for those who went before, during and those to go after our lifetime.

It is because people can only be experienced fully thru 1st hand experience that travel is so important to efficient and effective learning. Because humans are able to make themselves available to the public in a variety of ways other than person-to-person contact, we must travel. Realize that any availability that one may choose to present themselves through can and will be done with much forethought. It is because of this that experiencing life, people being a large part of life, that one should, id rather say must, travel in order to learn/experience life and live as much as possible.

Okay, enough rambling; back to the newspaper articles I promised to write about. I almost never read, actually I never read. That is up until I created this blog. Since the creation of this blog I have read more than the prior 5 years combined, no joke. I must say that I am stoked! Reading is proving to be a great source of entertainment, knowledge and pleasure. I can finally see why people have kept it up for so long, haha, wow I’ve been missing out on the world for quite a while. Glad to be back.

As I was selecting a table in the café car of the train my newly acquired appreciation and interest in writing must have been swirling around my unconscious mind. Although I cant say that in my entire life I have read more than 20 newspaper articles, that’s an average of less than 1 a year if you discount the early years when one cant read. I found myself sitting down at the only table with a large clutter of newspaper.
Due to my track record with newspapers I was certainly not planning on reading one, but apparently the unconscious nuances in my brain had set me up for the contrary.

It wasn’t until someone asked if they could borrow some of “my newspaper” did I really acknowledge its existence right in front of me. I then thought to myself, “shit, if they’re going to read this thing I probably should too”. I gingerly picked up these awkward to handle “newspapers” and began searching through them for something that might interest me. Judging each section on its title, business, cars, etc I picked out two that I thought might be worthy for my annual newspaper reading session. I selected the Culture/Events section, something like that anyway, as well as the Travel section.

The first article I read was titled The Waiting, from the culture section, which was an article about Tom Petty reuniting with an old band he played in, called Mudcrutch. This article was quite fascinating. It referenced the, “good o’l days” and such, talking much about the now legendary artists who started in a garage way back when. As I continued to read on I began to imagine myself in a time when these band men were my age. It seemed that whenever the train turned it would shed a ray of light through the window across my paper, highlighting only the area that I was reading. The combination of the unique lighting circumstances, a gentle murmur of my fellow train mates and the red wine coursing threw my veins created a mood wishfully to not be forgotten.

With my reading engine on red line I moved to the next article, Seattle’s Stew by Irene Virbilla from the travel section. This article was about good restaurants in Seattle. I found it fairly ironic that one of the very rare times that I pick up a newspaper it happens to have an article about a place I plan on visiting in the very near future. This irony furthered my excitement as I dove into the article. Fascinated by food and the micro cultures that inevitably encircle it, I quickly became involved with the article. The pace of my reading (very slow) allows me to imagine myself in the situation being presented. The writer would mention how a glass of wine went well with a specific dish and I would take a drink of my own glass while imagining myself in this quaint Seattle restaurant that she so eloquently described. This in addition to the soft murmurs I mentioned earlier and my “participation” with the article transported me once again to another place. Although the only place I have set foot in Seattle is in the airport I felt like a local taking a tour through its many great restaurants. I kept the article and plan to reference it when I make my journey to Seattle, hopefully before this summer. That’s all for now, I think I might buy my first book sometime soon, and who knows maybe the next time we sit down for coffee I’ll be able to hold the newspaper without knocking the table over.

Finished with my reading session the train shortly arrived at Union Station in LA. I had previously talked with a conductor to find out where and when my connecting train to Irvine would arrive. I was informed that I would have about 40 minutes before getting on my second leg of travel to San Diego. The third was to be done by bus from Irvine to Solana Beach. I made my way thru union station and across the street where I found a Mexican fiesta, appropriate for a Sunday. I found an interesting Mexican restaurant and ordered two tacos w/ a beef stew of some sort as the featured item and a Corona. I sat outside close to the fiesta where traditional Mexican folk music and dance filled the sunset scene.

After quickly finishing my Corona and tacos I wandered over to the main stage where everyone was gathered watching what seemed to be the highlight of the night. I enjoyed watching the Mexican families with the abundance of little children hopping and dancing around to the music. I took a few pictures on my phone to add to my napkin scriblets and made my way back to union station. Once I got back on the train I once again sat in the café car, that’s where all the action is. An older Asian lady who was quite inquisitive accompanied me, as well as a guy only a little older than myself and two laid back Amtrak employees. To keep things interesting I ordered another bottle of red wine, the last cabernet they had. I sat down and began flipping through the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated. Shortly after I began drinking my wine the guy similar in age to myself got himself a bottle of red wine, and the Asian lady got herself some sort of mixed drink that appeared to be a screwdriver. I knew it was going to be an interesting short haul from LA to Irvine. After a few minutes had passed with no new customers the Amtrak employees settled in amongst us and we began loading up. It seemed that we talked about nearly everything one can talk about, with an emphasis on travel by train of course. One of the employees enlightened us with a few stories from his 17 years of employment by Amtrak and the other cracked jokes every now and then. It was an enjoyable little evening in the café car that as we discussed would have preferably been spent by remaining on the train rather than getting on our connecting buses.

Eventually we arrived in Irvine and everyone poured out of the train and scrambled to their connecting buses. I had gotten a tip from the Asian lady who is must be a frequent traveler of the train, that it’s a good idea to be one of the first on the bus because they fill up often. I made it to my bus with ease and found a spot in the back next to the rear wheels where there was the most legroom. Once we were on our way I quickly zoned out and before I knew it we were arriving in Solana beach. Once calling for my pick up which was to be done by the night owl “magma”, I positioned myself on a large curb next to my backpack. A man started loading me up about the train system and asked why we had to take a bus rather than continuing on the train. We blabbered on for a bit and I ate some of his old trail mix that he offered. He seemed like a nice guy, new to San Diego and training to be a fireman. After a few minutes “my ride” pulled up, rims shining, windows tinted and cracked to the perfect height, music bumpn, the journey was over. I was home. My mind was still buzzing with all the new experiences I had over the course of this 9-hour adventure, but I was able to melt away into sleep knowing that I had it all written down on napkins.