After moving to Boston, a condition of keeping my job at the gigantic financial institution that employs me, I have to return to New York approximately once a month. That is a very reasonable condition, in my opinion. Paying for travel and accommodations myself, well, that's less reasonable to me, but there you have it.
So here I sit on the 6:21 Acela to Penn Station. I love me some quiet car time, that's for sure, but unlike my last trip, I have a seatmate. (Note to self: taking a few bites of my tuna sub every time people boarded was a winner of an idea last time.) It's fine. He's quiet and nice. A little armrest wrestling (subtle, but noticeable), but not a big deal. However, there are about four people who keep hacking uncontrollably. There was a man who took over both seats by laying down across them and donning a sleep mask. My seat mate, in fact, tried to sit next to THAT guy, but Sleeping Beauty kept spouting off about how is was "very ill." So after 5 minutes of that, I got myself a travel companion.
I believe that I coined the term "Amthrax" on this journey. I haven't had the inclination to google it -- I'm sure someone else came up with it first, like most of my brilliant ideas -- but for the moment, it's one of my best turns of phrase.
This is going to be a quick trip, only staying one night and then back tomorrow evening. Not too guilt-inducing for the working mother, but hearing "Cat's in the Cradle" this morning on my drive to the train station did not make me feel exactly empowered or anything. That was just mean, Boston 104.7 FM. Don't do that again.
I do love riding the train, though. Silence (mostly -- in the quiet car, anyway). Pretty scenery (damn, those are some big houses, Connecticut!). The feeling of doing something positive for the environment, which is vastly outweighed by my smug self-righteousness as we zip past all of the rush-hour traffic on I-95.
Happy Wednesday!
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