I look around the café. It’s four tables, and all are occupied by crew members. It seems on this train, the crew claims the café for their private club, and coach passengers have to eat in the diner, which means they must wait for the first class to finish.
Here the dining is lower than fast food, maybe movie theater food. Microwaved hamburgers, that sort of thing. I line up, order at the counter, and carefully carry my food back to my table in a little paper box. But, in my breakfast box, I also have a nip of vodka and a bottle of orange juice. I’m going to make it.
I sit at my breakfast table, watching the foothills of the Alleghany Mountains roll past. The trees are gorgeous in yellows and oranges. I try to get a few pictures, but many are blurred by the motion,
I’ve moved all my things to the open seats, just outside the diner. I pass through the crew’s café, through the shifting coupling between the cars, and to my seats. I’m feeling pretty ragged after two nights of short sleep.
I think about the train change in Washington. I’m going to have to get my checked bags and carry them to the Acela. I’m a little worried. But, it will work out.
RobinCravey 