--I drove Sunshine back to Syracuseon Sunday evening, so she could nod-out aboard Amtrak, and sloooowly
make her way home.
She was booked on a train scheduled to leave for Chicagoat
9:41
pm.
I don’t know why it had to be so late at night, or why she
was required to depart from a station located 125 miles from our house.Toney and Nancy worked out the logistics of all that; I was
only transportation services.
I figured we could leave at 6
o’clock,
eat a quick dinner somewhere, and still have an adequate buffer zone
in case of unforeseen
circumstances.But Sunny was becoming hysterical as the day wore on, convinced
she would miss the train.She
wanted to leave our house at 3
o’clock.
I held out until 4:30,
and we hit the road.
Surprisingly enough, she didn’t seem to be flying high on her
“antibiotics.”She was
fairly normal as we drove, and we passed the time by mocking Nostrils
– the old standby.She
likes to use the word putrid
when describing him, and that always makes me laugh for some reason.
We arrived at 6:30,
and I asked if she wanted to eat dinner at the mall food court, across
the road.“Oh, no!”
she shouted. “We need to check in and stay by the gate, so I don’t
miss the train.”We had
three hours!
So I parked, and dragged her heavy-ass suitcases out of the trunk.Then I helped her put on her deep-sea diving tanks, made sure
she had her Charlie Chaplin cane(?!) and we went inside to start the
check-in process.
And I don’t think I’ve ever encountered ruder people in all my
life.It was almost
shocking.Both of them, a
man and a woman, responded to our questions with open-face disgust, as
if they’d never before heard
such an idiotic thing.They
were sarcastic, unhelpful, and nearly hostile.
My blood pressure was ratcheting up, and it was all I could do to
avoid a “situation.”But
God knows I didn’t want Sunshine to be banned from the train, or
something like that.So we
held our tongues, and allowed ourselves to be treated like shit by
Amtrak personnel.
There was a 24-hour Subway restaurant at the other end of the
building, and a Dunkin Donuts, and maybe something else.So we walked down there and had unsatisfactory sandwiches for
dinner.
The food court is located in the bus
station
section of the complex, and the bus station clientele seemed to be a
tad, you know, rough -- as compared to train folk.
Somewhere along the line, Sunny had obviously loaded up on her
medication, and was now acting like something out of Sid
& Nancy.It took upwards of five minutes for her to order a six-inch
meatball sub.Her hands
were shaking, and I was afraid she might go over a railing or
something.
When we finally made it to a table, her cell phone rang and it was
Mumbles, back home in Nevada.And Sunshine proceeded to talk to him in a loud whisper, about
all the “foreigners,” “trailer trash,” “black
gang-bangers,” and “Arab terrorists wearing diapers and fan belts
on their heads.”
I just ate my seven-dollar tube of bread and lettuce, and silently
prayed we’d make it out of there alive.
Following our so-called dinner, Sunny wandered into a gift shop and
became enamored with a massive long-sleeve SyracuseUniversityt-shirt.The thing was
retina-searingly orange, hilariously huge, and priced at $26.She asked my opinion, and I said, “Well, it would come in
handy if you’re ever in a situation where you need to be spotted by
aircraft.”
She made no response to this, puttered around like Miss Jane Pittman
for a little while, and exited the store without buying anything.Then we made our way back to the trendy upscale Amtrak waiting
area.
And that’s where we sat for what seemed like a full 24-hour day.Sunshine could no longer carry on a conversation, so I just
stared straight ahead, like Puddy.At one point I walked away for a few minutes, returned and
found Sunny sobbing uncontrollably into a cell phone.I just turned on my heel, and went in the opposite direction.Funk dat.
As 9:41
approached, the waiting area began to fill-up.A couple of neo-hippies flopped down beside me, and at least
one of them reeked of patchouli.The
guy was carrying a guitar case, and the girl had a banjo.Whatever.They
started eating trail mix from a cloth bag, and talking quietly.
And when the girl stood up, I saw that roughly three inches of her
butt crack had worked its way above the waistband of her peasant
skirt.And she never
adjusted it, she just walked around and hung out with radically
exposed ass the whole time.
I began plotting their life stories in my head, to pass the time.I named him Leaf, and she was Butt-Crack Sally.As the minutes passed, I learned their entire histories, all
about their families and friends, and why they were going to Chicago.Oh, it was an intricate tale.
Finally the train arrived from Boston/New
York,
and they started boarding passengers.Sunshine was so messed-up, she probably would’ve ended up on
a bus to Floridaif I hadn’t been there to help.I led her to the train, helped her to her seat, stowed all her
crap, and the whole nine yards.I'm
certain she woke up the next morning having no idea how she’d
ended up in Chicago,
Illinois.
I mean, she wasloaded.And I hoped they wouldn’t find a corpse strapped to a chair
on the other end.But
apparently she made it.At
least far enough to remove me from the picture…
It was now 10
o’clockat night, and I had 125 miles to drive.I decided to swing by Dunkin Donuts and buy a large coffee for
the road.And they were as
rude as the Amtrak people.What
the hell, man??Is it just Syracuse,
or does it have something to do with working inside a train station?I’m not sure, but I don’t care for it.Not one tiny bit.
I’d brought along a big swollen box set of old time radio shows, and
listened while I drove.I
started with Orson Welles, starring in “The
Hitchhiker.”Creepy as all hell...
Then I played five full episodes of Yours
Truly, Johnny Dollar.That program was a serial sort of thing, and every episode fed
into the next one.By the
time I finished five of them, it felt like I’d watched a full-length
movie – a really good movie, at that.
When I got home I was wired, and not ready for bed.So I drank a cuppa two tree vessels of the golden elixir, and
didn’t hit the sack until after 1:30
am.The next morning I had a job interview, and went in there with
big ol’ Frank Torre bags under my eyes.I’m sure that made quite an impression…
And now you’re pretty much up to date on the Sunshine front.I think she’s supposed to get home on Wednesday or Thursday.We’ll see how it goes.
--Before I call it a day
here, I have a few quick things…
Here are two more Surf Reporters Wearing Surf Report Shirts.I don’t have any Smoking Fish loungewear left for purchase,
we’re completely sold-out.So,
thanks for the support!We’ll
undoubtedly do it again next year.In the meantime, keep the pictures coming.
I went to a flea market on Saturday, at the insistence of Toney’s
mother, and made three kick-ass scores.Check it out.Oh
yeah.
This is a recording featuring my old boss in California,
circa 1965.
And here’s something from Surf Reporter hockeykevin:
Hi Jeff.I went into the restroom at my job on the 5th floor of an
undisclosed NV state office building, and hanging on the wall in there
was singing big mouth fish.WTF!?!?!?
Now I really know I live in a state with nothing but rednecks.Anyway, as I was staring at the thing and thinking all kinds of
redneck type thoughts, it hit me.What would this thing look like with a cigarette in its mouth?Heh, heh, heh!I
took a quick piss and beat it back to my cubicle.
I borrowed a cigarette from a co-worker (I'm not a smoker) and made up
a sign to cover the big mouth fish plaque, grabbed the office camera
and headed back to the head.
This is a picture of my handiwork.You may use this as you see fit.Not bad for hockey lovin', bass guitar playin', State employee.
--Finally, I have a simple Question for ya:what do you think is the rudest city in the world?Use the comments link below.
Obviously, this is spurred by my visit to Syracuseon
Sunday, but I think Philadelphiais a rude place as well.Brotherly
love, my big riffled ass…
Oh sure, you can encounter rudeness anywhere you go, but some places
just seem to ooze
it.NYC has that
reputation, but I’ve never had a bad experience there; I think it
might be time to update that particular stereotype…
So, any opinions on that subject?Tell
us about it.And if you
don’t want to talk about rude places,
just tell us about memorable encounters with rude people.
And I’ll be back tomorrow…I
hope it’s not obvious, but I’m still trying to recover from the
Sunshine visit.Holy hell.
