I’m on my way to Washington DC. By train, a high-speed tilting train – who even knew there was such a thing?
The last time I took the train, there was that unfortunate “Eternal Flame” sing-a-long incident that got me thrown out of the quiet car. This time, my biggest worry is lifting my suitcase up to the overhead rack, which is higher than the overhead bin in an airplane. So I’m packing light.
All seasoned executive business women know that packing smart means packing coordinates. Taking it to an extreme, I’m packing monchrome and the chrome is grey. Grey slacks, grey tunic, grey shirt, grey striped shirt, white shirt!, grey sweater, dark grey slacks. By this mix and match method, I should be able to keep the suitcase light enough to lift without assist.
If I can’t lift it, Plan B is that I will stand next to a strong looking guy and put him into a trance due to sheer boredom from looking at all that grey. Then I will hypnotize him to lift my suitcase and maybe even let me sit in his seat before we start tilting off towards Washington.
Travel Update: I have arrived at my destination without much incident at all – just a little bit of red hot glaring at the seat hogs who piled their bags next to them so no one else can sit there. And then THEY LIE about it when you sk if the seat is free. If someone else is already sitting there, then where are they? Hmmm? It’s a train – there’s not that many places to go. I topped off the hate fest with some gentle snoring for most of the trip.





