Train don't stop Camborne Wednesdays

She works for the International study abroad program. She is shorter than me. She has brown hair and a welcoming smile. She likes good Music. She likes good Film. She is now on a plane to Louisiana.

Mariette is my couchsurfing host for the next few days. She has kindly given me shelter while she jets off to do some work in New Orleans. When she told me, I wanted to go, but then I remembered I'm in Austin, and good things happen in Austin this time of year.






"Yaaaaay!"

"Wooohoooo!"

These are some of the things I said when I got off Eagle Star number 21 in Austin. The ride had been long. Very long. I arrived very late. Very late.

The ride was supposed to be twenty-odd hours. It took thirty one. I couldn't understand how a train could get so delayed. Until I met the driver.

The driver looked like this:









Now, I thought trains ran on straight rails, so the driver wouldn't have to steer. Just press buttons. I suppose that can be difficult when you look like this:










Perhaps we had to stop a lot, in order for the path of the train to be checked by other officials? After all, it must be difficult to check the signals, when you look like this:







"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

-Thump Thump-

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

-Thump Thump-

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

-Thump Thump-

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

-Thump Thump-

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

-Thump Thump-

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"

Apparently, staring at ginger english people and continually going "Aaaaaaaaaa" whilst kicking their seat, is an olympic sport for four year old girls in America. I felt honoured to be chosen as the audience for this spectacle, though it wore thin after roughly four seconds. She continually stared at me, blowing snot bubbles out of her right nostril for roughly twenty minutes, whilst I mouthed the words "Fuck.Off" at her repeatedly, before my neighbour whispered:

"Dude, you got a tazer?"

I immediately smiled and knew I had made a friend. Lewis. Lewis is one funny motherfucker, he has a razor sharp wit concerning all things observational, and he likes being disgustingly rude about people for no good reason. What a great guy. We sat together and plotted against the toddler-witch. At first we talked about the classic 'break the window and chuck her out' trick. Then we moved onto the 'hold out your arms for a hug, then twist her neck as she gets close' idea. But we finally settled on teaching her the word 'cunt'. She called her mum a cunt shortly after this and got smacked hard. I think that just about levels us up, little girl. In all honesty, her mum was a cunt. She was twenty one, with two kids. She doesn't know the fathers and she was blind drunk at four in the afternoon, alone, with her kids. What a cunt.


I decided that I'd had enough of this carriage at ten thirty in the evening, when the little girl decided to cry.

"Fuck you little girl" I thought, and went in search of peace.







"Hey Wolverine, can I sit here?"

"Sure" I replied.

"What's your name Wolverine?"

"Pete"

"Sheet son. You got some hair on you. And them sideburns! Hell!"

"Thanks"

"The names P-Man"

"You can call me P though, seems as we're gonna be sittin here talking 'n' all"

"Right. Thanks P"

I turned out the window and cracked a smile. I don't know why. It was late, I was tired, I was pissed off, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk to an Afro-Saxon. White men that think they're black are worse than gay men that think it's ok to touch girls boobs. They lie to themselves and the rest of us, thinking we accept it. I don't accept it, I just put up with pricks because I have to.
If I didn't I'd be called a prick.



"What you listening to bro?"

I took a moment to think.

"George Michael" I said with conviction.

"Ohhhh"

P-Man paused, then looked away. Then went to speak, but didn't.

I didn't talk to P-Man again. Good.




I slept a little, and didn't feel too bad about it. The sun was coming up and my eyes were covered in that gooey shit you get a lot when your a kid. I don't know if there's a medical term for it. A lot of people I know just call it 'sleep'. So, I woke up with sleep in my eyes and the sun on my face. I smiled and felt nervous. I've been looking forward to Texas for a long long time now. Approximately fifteen years in fact. I've always wanted to come here, and now I was nearly there. Nearly.

I popped open my laptop and fired up Ableton Live. I decided that extremely loud Music would elevate my mood. It did. For roughly seven hours, I put lots of effects on lots of Music and created a tumult of noise in the mix. I played a lot of Breaks, something I haven't really touched in a while, and it felt good. I felt a little bit younger and a lot more happier. Then I shut my laptop and cranked up a bit of Joni Mitchell. I haven't been able to stop listening to her recently. I think the spirit of her Music, even lyrically, is a good accompaniment to my journies. If a little over worked and cliche.

The hours were starting to grind slower and slower as we rode through Texas. I remember stopping at the street where Kennedy was shot, looking down out the window of the train, right at that pavement and road and shrugging. I prefer seeing places with real people doing things, not the places where dead people have done things.

We carried on.


We rolled on.


The journey continued.


I looked at dust, farms, muscle cars and the sun setting. I had now been on this train for more than a complete revolution of the earth. That made me want to cry a little. But I didn't. I ate a microwave pizza instead. It tasted like shit.

At half past nine, a voice over the tannoy said

"Ladies and gentlemen. We are now arriving at our next station stop. Austin, TExas. Austin, Texas. Those of you alighting here at Austin, Texas, please gather all our personal belongings and rubbish and have a safe journey home. We would like to thank you for travelling with Amtrak"

I recognised the voice over the tannoy, because I had met the man at a cigarette stop in Dallas. It was this man:




I was elated. I jumped off the train, lit a cigarette and stood in the warm night. I heard birds and cars. I smelt fried chicken. I saw Mariette.

"Yaaaaaaay"

"Woooohooooo"



These are some of the things I said when I got off Eagle Star number 21 in Austin. And Mariette joined in too. She smiled a lot and we hugged. She had been out all day drinking, which made the greeting a little easier. And I was ecstatic to be off the train, which made it easier too.

We straight away went to a house party. There were lots of couchsurfers there and it was fun. I drank beer from a keg, petted dogs, spoke to Mariette a lot, spoke to a man named Rob a lot, and generally had a fucking nice welcome to Austin.

Lots of people took my number and told me to hang out with them. Today I have done that. I woke, coughed, showered, coughed, ate a taco for breakfast, said goodbye to Mariette as she left for New Orleans, coughed, went for a picnic, watched a boat race, coughed, smiled, laughed, drank, ate, played on photo booth with two little mexican girls who were being babysat by someone and now I'm back at Mariette's place. Coughing.