S: The city rail system runs from near my house, way, way north of town, to my Mom’s house, way, way south of town. Today I road the train to see her.
First thing to say is, if I made a flow chart for public transportation the first decision block would have to be “need to pee.” Then if yes, pee, if no, pee. Yeah, it’s a good idea to pee before beginning the process. Also, it’s a good idea to have a walkman or MP3 player with you so that you can turn on, tune in, and drop out, ala Mr. Leary. My favorite playlist is full of songs that I have loved over the years I have been listening to music that my parents didn’t buy for me. These songs lie all over the map of music, from Squeeze to Joni Mitchell, Roxy Music to the Dead Kennedys.
Just as I was leaving downtown and hitting the Tyler street station, Santana’s Oye Como Va started playing. Wow, what a great theme song for that part of Oak Cliff. Then as I hit my old neighborhood, Stevie Ray Vaughan’s version of Hendrix’s Little Wing played. On the way back I discovered that Blue Rodeo’s 5 days in May and Bring on the Night by the Police fit the train ride perfectly.
The sun was shining, the air was clear and dry – the people on the train didn’t smell too bad.
Being on the train is like meditation. I lose track of time. I watch the scenes go by, detached as they pass – with no sense of loss, just watching stuff float past the windows. Graffiti, plastic bags blown into the trees, rust, buildings with every window broken, lots of glass and chrome, Grecian sculpture, pit bulls in back yards, flowers galore, yuppies, rappers, families going to the zoo. I find it very calming to ride the train for an hour and let my mind slow way down while life passes by the train windows.
It occurred to me. This was that perfect day. The day you don’t expect and cannot plan for. The day when you realize that you still have something to live for, even if it’s just that moment when the iPod syncs with the train trip to create some kind of city-born Nirvana.
Ahhhhhh – springtime is here.
A: Funny, we’ve never talked trains. They strike a distinct feeling in me too, and I’ve spent most of my time on them listening to music as well. I love how the music fills my ears and serves as a backdrop to the scenes I witness around me. Trains remind me of when I lived in Boston and was regularly on a subway, trolley, or commuter rail…always sitting there, gently rocking with the motion of the moving train and looking out the window. My favorite time of day to be on them was dusk, when the sun had nearly sank past the horizon and left black silhouettes of trees and houses against an indigo sky. I always remember seeing my reflection in the window and feeling so aware of the conflict that always lingered beneath the surface. You can’t look outside a train window at dusk without seeing your own reflection in your peripheral vision; it’s not like looking in a mirror, it’s like you’re witnessing yourself without directly seeing yourself, all while the rest of the world spins by outside. Yet you remain still and observant, seeing others who are sharing this same moment of stillness in the train. It has a surreal quality, much like a Proustian recall, that I’ve never been able to shake, regardless of where I am when I’m on the train and regardless of whether I’m with other people. Oh, and yes S, be sure to pee before you get on the train. Those train toilets are just plain scary.
