Conventional wisdom says jumping off a blazing train onto the snowy tracks below is scary. But I’m not one to be dictated by conventional wisdom, so on Saturday night when I found myself, well, jumping off a blazing train onto the snowy tracks below, I was more irritated than scared — irritated that my wine-induced snooze had been interrupted, irritated that the other passengers weren’t moving quickly enough, irritated that my snowboots were packed away in my bag, irritated I hadn’t thought to pee earlier. Yet, as I ran through 3+ feet of snow, I couldn’t help laughing. Laughing out loud. I mean, our train was on fire! The other passengers, followers of conventional wisdom, looked at me like I was nuts.
We were returning from a two-night trip to Atlantic City, my first Friday away from the city. Originally scheduled to return to NYC on a late bus, we opted for the earlier — and more pleasant – ACES train. There’s something about train rides that cause the mind to wander, and shortly before the train came to its abrupt stop, I had been complaining of utter boredom. ”Bored bored bored bored” I kept repeating in my mind and out loud. Bored with the slow-moving train, bored with life.
I think the train gods must’ve heard me and were like, “Bored eh? Here you go.”
I’ll take this as a sign to stop waiting around for things to happen to me.
Fleeing the train
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