earth on foot 19
25 Sept 25
We, a haphazard group of commuters, head toward Newark, through Philadelphia, en route to New York.
My seat mate is long-legged. To my surprise, the hiss I thought was an air leak at the window is music through his headphones. What is it, I wonder? Oasis? Bach? Enya? I hear she lives in a castle with many cats.
On my right somewhere, a keyboard absorbs a punishing wpm. The Atlantic rests in the distance. To my left, long and far away, lies California. Ah, California! Ah, to recline by the Pacific, hear its deep peaceful rhythms! Escape the whir of this chilly Amtrak! (Though, I do appreciate it, of course. Plus, here’s to embodying a high school physics’ problem: moving at 125 mph and strolling in opposite direction of travel for some SmartFood…).
I get up and walk the length of the car several times, and again 45 mins later. I do this many, many times during the trip.
A restless sort, am I.
Another (last week too—I’m a regular commuter!) 24 hours in New York for family, and lots and lots of hugs, plus walks in the park, runs in the park, and a meal or two of peanut butter on buckwheat bread.
By now, the F train and I are old pals, and hoofing it up the metallic stairs to emerge on 8th and 9th feels celebratory.
“Imma call you right back,” Mesmerizing syntax. A white-haired gentleman reads a hardback book and chews on his bottom lip. Another woman sends signals with her eyes to her boyfriend across the aisle. Soon, a very chipper, chatty trash collector comes through and over the PA, the cafe car attendant announces, in clipped tones, that one must wear shoes when ordering food. “No shoes, no service,” she adds in surprised tones, as if she invented the line. A chuckle goes through our coach, the atmosphere collects momentarily to a hushed joviality, until we return to our devices once more.