The Story: Planes Trains & Automobiles -- II

"Six bucks and my right nut says we're not landing in Chicago"

(Del)

And then there was the Train...

Monday and Tuesday passed quickly. I got some extra sleep, took care of making sure I had my apartment set up, and sold my dead car for scrap money.

((Side Note)) While all this was going on, Libya was exploding. Rebels had reached Gadhafi's compound and I watched CNN reporter, Sara Sidner - dodge bullets over her head. In between phone calls, I watched in utter fascination and disbelief. The people of Libya were claiming their freedom. Reporters were making phone calls while on lock-down at a government run hotel and I knew going into work less than a week after this was going to be something else.

But back to the next leg of the trip.

Wednesday came around and I was supposed to hop on a train at 3pm. It would make a pit stop in Chicago and Washington DC before actually arriving in Atlanta on Friday-- late night.

At noon, I thought it wise to make sure I knew where the Amtrak station was and quickly did an internet search. I called my cousin and we confirmed -- there was no such station in Las Vegas. I was severely puzzled and concerned at this point - so I checked my ticket and called Amtrak.

Sure enough, I had a blond moment. Apparently, I didn't fully read the city stations carefully enough. No, it didn't say Las Vegas, NV. It said Las Vegas, NM. Really? Who the hell knew there was Las Vegas New Mexico? Well, of course, my dad told me, he did. He'd passed through it driving and it was a backwater town with tumbleweeds. [Insert Grim Face Here].

Anyway, I talked to a lady at Amtrak and she was able to re-route my train from Phoenix to New Orleans and then to Atlanta. But, I'd have to find a way down to Phoenix...that is Maricopa, another small town just outside Phoenix that I had once passed through while visiting from California. Deep Breath, what a mess. But it was going to work out, and in the end, cost me less.

So- I booked a Plane.

I called my Aunt Margie and explained the ridiculous situation I had put myself in and asked if she'd be gracious enough to pick me up from the airport and whisk me away to the train station in time to make a 1030pm departure. Frankly my awkward misfortunes and adventure played well in her favor as it would give us a chance to hang out, however briefly-- before heading to the other side of the country.

I wasn't excited about the trip to an airport. With TSA under fire for molesting people and the pain of having to carry what luggage I thought was so essential (including a travel backpack, a large suitcase on wheels with as many clothes, a pillow and a computer all stuffed in it, a guitar case, a camera bag and Partridge in a pair tree) --and airlines charging for checked baggage, my annoyance level goes on high alert. But for the first time in a long time, I tried to go with the groove of day - which hadn't been so bad, just busy. I briskly moved through the counter and even talked the woman into only charging me for two bags instead of three (no, seriously, they wanted to charge me for my sleeping bag, that, by the way, was attached to my backpack. joy.).

Security went smoothly and I can only guess that's because the Mafia is running the Las Vegas airport...and they recognized me. Finally, I was able to head to my gate and just sit down. Of course this meant that my scenic view consisted of slot machines - meant to tempt my fate and steal my cash. Thankfully, I don't carry any.

The plane ride was short sweet and to the point.

I hopped off and waited in the terminal for my guitar - which the pilot carefully and kindly retrieved for me. Headed for the baggage claim and called my Aunt. We fumbled with Maggie the GPS - and finally calculated semi-correct directions to the train station. After being told the train would be late, Aunt Margie and I went hunting for a place to eat. Surely - at 10pm, all the restuarants would still be serving food. Then again, our choices were slim: a bar with bad music, McDonalds and Sonic. This after discovering Subway closed, Panda Express didn't have half of what they're menu said and a pizza place that wouldn't fudge to a make us a couple of slices.

I mean really, no charity for the starving hippie and her Aunt? What do people do in this town? The answer was obviously: nothing. So we settled on bad food and tasty drinks at Sonic.

We parted ways and finally, it was time to take the train - which by the way? I still didn't board until nearly 1am Thursday morning. Thank heavens I had two seats to myself to fall asleep. My back would pay for that sleeping position later.

At least I would see the country side, sort of, on the south west, south side. And, my layover was an overnight in New Orleans...so I would just make the trip complete with a night on the town, live jazz music and a fine dinner on Burboun Street. Classy. I called my friend in Pensacola and asked her to join me. - Of course - she said yes.

Settling in, despite on the mishaps, things were looking great and I was going to enjoy the ride.

TO BE CON'T....