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Nov
19
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With the Thanksgiving holiday coming up, we had no school. I considered taking the kids by train to Chicago for a few days, and maybe catch a show or going to Navy Pier. When I brought the idea up to my husband, who was going to be in Illinois for most of the week, he arched his eyebrow, and then reminded me to pay our life insurance policy.
My birthday is April 1st. This year, my husband was going to be in Chicago for business. As a surprise, he bought show tickets and got us a room at the Hard Rock Hotel. I’d never ridden a train before, so he even made arrangements for me to take the train to the city.
I spent most of the day rushing around, shuttling kids, chasing dogs, and being ignored by rabbits who knew I’d run out of treats. Then I got lost trying to find the train station in Ann Arbor. I’d left home an extra half hour early, in preparation for my getting lost, so I was still good on time.
Once I’d finally found the train station, I was forced to park eleventy-billion light years away. It was a good thing I’d left home so early; I’d need the time for the walk to the train station.
I dragged my bag, purse, and laptop up forty-two flights of stairs. Not the nice, steep stairs either. The too-short, torturously long ones that resemble an incline, with the plane occasionally disrupted. Uphill both ways.
Once I made it inside the station, I scoped the room for a seat that would be somewhat private so I could call my husband while I waited. There weren’t many people inside, so I had a lot of choices. I picked the emptiest area in the room.
Moments later, a dirty, unkempt man came into the station to wait for the train. Despite the wide array of seating choices available to him, he chose the seat right next to me. He stared directly at me. He smiled.
Screee! Screee! Screee!
This is the point in the movie where you’re sitting in the audience screaming, “Look out! You’re going to DIE!” But he never listens, does he?
I dragged my things outside and stood next to some athletic-looking college students.
Boarding the train, I was set to relax. So what if I never found my shoe? Who cared if my new Nano had just died on me? I was going to have fun, even if it killed me.
Most of the passengers in my section tried to nap, were reading, or quietly got to know their seatmates. I was nearly asleep when everyone heard a loud thunk!
The train jerked hard, and rattled. Luckily for the rest of the passengers, I’m only slightly cursed. If I’d been totally cursed, we would’ve been hit by the tornado, and left hanging from the trees instead of running over them.
Looking out the window, I saw horizontal trees everywhere, pieces of barns scattered in the roads, and police officers setting out flares. Traveling along, slowing steadily, I saw a swath cut into the countryside.
Luckily we’d missed the tornado, but we did hit a “medium sized” tree that it left on the tracks. I’m not sure what constitutes a “medium sized” tree, but while it’s not enough to kill a train, it will wound it.
We sat on the track for a while, and ended up being an hour and a half late to Chicago. I had a terrific time, stayed alive, and even won tickets to see The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. It was hilarious, and I highly recommend it.
Sadly enough, the fact that my train hit a tree doesn’t really surprise me. I’ve gotten used to stuff like this. And it wasn’t nearly as scary as the commuter plane incident.
