The InterCity Dad Express

After an evening workout, and a shower I made my way to Washington Union Station to board the 10 pm train to Boston last night as usual for weekends with the boy.

I made myself comfortable in coach class. After an on schedule departure, and once my ticket had been collected, I made my way to the cafe car at the front of the train for a double whiskey to sip back at my seat. I read WashPo stories on my BlackBerry, and caught up on e-mails until I got sleepy, which happened just after the train pulled out of Baltimore Penn Station.

Putting on my mask and pulling out my pack pillow, I made myself as comfortable as could be lying across the two seats, legs curled-up against the wall of the car. I slept soundly that way through most of the night, oblivious to the train's stops in Wilmington and Philadelphia, waking only briefly when the train stopped in Trenton. I slept soundly through the 50 minute stopover in New York City where there is a crew change. On some other trips the new ticket collector has insisted upon waking me, although I always leave my ticket out in full view (tucked behind the strap of my eye mask). I awoke again only briefly at New Haven, and New London, before finally waking up for the day when the conductor announced the stop in Providence, one of my better night's sleep on the North East Corridor.

Once up for the day, I headed back to the cafe car. The same attendant who had served me whiskey the night before, served me coffee and Raisin Bran for breakfast. Back at my seat, I read more WashPo on my BlackBerry while eating my cold cereal, and watching the southern New England scenery go by in the dreary weather.

Having eaten, I brushed my teeth, and then pulled my things together just in time to alight the train at Back Bay. Off I went to catch the green line at Copley Square to pick up the boy for the weekend.

I've been commiserating for years

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There are no seat belts on this bus

The Metro bus I was riding to work this morning played a recorded reminder to "buckle-up."

Regular Coffee

I regularly travel to Boston overnight on the train. I'm also a coffee drinker. So right after I get off the train, I'm looking for a cup of coffee. I have frequently had the experience when ordering coffee in Boston of having to confirm for the clerk, sometimes twice, that I don't want sugar in my coffee.

While I've become accustomed to this, yesterday I had an experience ordering coffee that really took the cake. I placed my order for "coffee with cream; no sugar." The clerk repeated back to me "no sugar." Then one of her coworkers came up from behind with a coffee cup, asking "was that a regular coffee?" The clerk said "yes" as her colleague proceeded to shovel spoonfuls of sugar from a bucket on the counter top into the empty coffee cup in her hand.

Like Butter

Long-time readers of this blog will recall that The Boy likes butter. One day several years ago, when The Boy was a young toddler, The Boy's Mother was dropping off him at daycare. The Boy was being particularly clingy and weepy that day making it hard for his mother to leave him. One of the caregivers picked him up and explained: "your mommy needs to go to work, so she can earn money to buy food for you to eat."

The Boy sniffled and then replied, asking, "like butter?"

Dancing on the Ceiling

Someone at North Station in Boston has a sense of humor. I took this photograph looking up at the ceiling.