So, last weekend my Father decides that he wants to take my Daughter for her first trainride. She is three, and, well, speaks like a three year old. He asked me to please come along to act as a translator. No problem, what time do you need me there?
Well, the train departs the station at 10:15. I need to be at his house at 9:30, so we can drive the 1/2 hour to the station, and have time to park and get to the platform.
Oh, great, I need to leave my house at 7:30. Up at 6:30 with Sammi. Make coffee. Drink first cup. Get Sammi and I in the shower, dressed and ready to go. Cups #2 and 3. I load the car, and grab the travel mug. Cups 4-5. Drive the two hours.
Pickup my Dad, head to the train station. On the way, Dad wants a coffee, buys me a large....what's that, cups 6 and 7?
Go to the station, and, well, the bathroom is closed for cleaning. Bah, no worries, I'm fine. Train is 15 minutes late. I'm cold, and I now need to, ah, remove the coffee from my system.
The train comes, and I know that the restrooms are at both ends. Nope, Dad decides to sit in the middle car, so we can sit upstairs to have a better view. Then the train starts to move. I need to go. With a greater sence of urgency. First stop, second stop, third stop. I need to go, now. Like painful need to go. I get up for the next stop, and explain that I'm going to get off and jump to one end of the other. While I'm explaining why I doing this to my Father, I get a lecture about not waiting that long. Perfect timing, we miss that stop.
I'm now standing in the front of the car, in crisis mode. I'm trying to figure out which side of the train has less houses, as I'm entertaining dropping trow and going overboard.
It's that bad folks.
Well, I get to the point, that I need to go. There is no more waiting, I need to go. I walk through the train to the next train, where the two conductors are talking about of of their previous nights, ah, escapades with some woman that one of them obviously thought was the most beautiful woman in the world, and the other was doubting his story.
I barge in to the car in panic mode....they both turn around to tell me that the train is closed and I need to go to the other end to go to the latrine. I firmly, but politely told them that this was not an option.
They explain to me, and they were very, very nice about it, that the car was closed and the bathroom was for the conductors only.
I told them to offer me a job, I had to go.
I whip open the door, the light is out. Dead. No light. No windows. I can't see straight, I'm in so much pain at this point.
They tell me something to the effect that the bathroom was closed as the light was out and it was a safety issues, blah, blah, blah.
I panic. I can't walk, I need to go. Then, the heavens open, the angels sing, and I remember that since I am self proclaimed paranoid, my Surefire (God (and, if anyone wants to, Baby Jesus can help out, too)) bless them, is in my pocket.
Turn the end cap to constant on, jam it in my mouth, slam the door shut on two rather upset conductors, and, well, created a much smaller scale version of Niagra Falls.
I open the door, 25 or 30 pounds lighter, and the light is still in my mouth.
One conductor is pissed at the apparent disrespect I showed him. The other is laughing. He them pulls out his surefire, blaps me in the chest with it (the whole "nice toy, I have one too, welcome the the International Brotherhood of Paranoid, but Prepared, Flashlight keepers), and told me to have a nice day.
And that, my friends, is why I always have a flashlight in my pocket, day or night.
M
