RIDING THE RAILS - UNDERCOVER
/Two days ago, I was on the platform with the Sacramento sun on my face, about to embark on a cross-country train trip to Boston. Ahead were four days and three nights riding the rails, without cellular or Wi-Fi service. Unplugged. Just Duncan and me. In a 7' x 7' Amtrak bedroom.
As I stepped onto Car 631, I smiled. There are so few opportunities in life to completely let go, and I was ready to be invisible (except to a bunch of strangers also trying to get off the grid). Goodbye office; hello majestic mountains, colorful buttes, and whitewater rivers. The rhythm of my life was about to be gauged only by meals. And none of them would be at my desk.
Last night Duncan and I went to the dining car all dressed up. I'm talking high heels (on me, not Duncan). I was bummed that I forgot my gloves. Duncan warned me that people would think we were nuts. I didn't care. For an hour or so, I wanted us to be in our own little world, reliving the glory days of train travel. Just like Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint in North By Northwest. I put a candlelight app on my phone for ambiance, and it was the perfect finishing touch for the table. After dinner, we walked out of the dining car, and everyone clapped. Snap!
Today, we did nothing; absolutely nothing (except tell some fellow passengers that we worked for the Secret Service). Then we had a layover in Chicago and had to switch trains. We used the time to grab dinner with Duncan's law school roommate, Joel, whom we fondly refer to as our "first child." I can't tell if he loves it or hates it. Regardless, there's something special about spending time with someone who shared an important part of your youth. Even a warped part like law school. Joel teaches law school now, and as we were leaving, I asked him to deliver a message to his students. "Please tell them that when they get together with a classmate 35 years from now, the law won't matter. Only family and love." He said he'd let me know their reaction. I'll keep you posted.
Tomorrow night we will be home. No more sleeping to the rhythm of the tracks; no more makeshift but coveted showers in our toilet stall. The bubble will break and life will resume. People will ask me why in the world I chose to cross the belly of the US by train. If they have to ask, they'll never understand, so I'll probably just tell them something ridiculous. But it's a journey that brought me face-to-face with the spectacular beauty of this vast country, and a profound sense of inner peace. I guess sometimes you need to escape your world in order to fully appreciate it.
The lessons I've learned from my cross-country trip are simple. Escape. Regularly. Let yourself wander free. Life isn't a dress rehearsal, so embrace the (sometimes silly) opportunities to dress up just for fun. Grab life and run with it, even if it means doing nothing at all. And if you want to go to ground for a while, there's nothing better than a long train ride. For a few days, you'll transform ordinary moments into extraordinary memories. Completely undercover.
