This is Pierre's last guest post for me! As anyone can tell if they regularly read my usual posts, I've not edited anything he wrote.
Day 5: The Voyage Home.
Now that may sound like a star trek movie, and I can tell you that the train ride home certainly had a lot in common with a Captain Kirk adventure. There were slightly off-human creatures everywhere and we rode a vehicle that rocked and swayed as if it were being pummeled by Klingon torpedoes. But one expects that in a train ride. What did surprise me however was the post-apocalyptic landscape rushing by.... scores of boarded up factories and worn out little towns. I probably imagined the mutant faces peering out of the splintered window panes because by the time we reached Albany the vodka was starting to kick-in.
I’ve always maintained that it does me no good to think too much. That includes my past, my immediate surroundings and the nasty consequences of whatever I happen to be doing. But sometimes I wonder. For instance, why was I the only passenger asked by the customs agent whether I was carrying any alcohol? And what am I to make of the crazy old bat with one of those creepy Eastern European accents who whispered to me that she only pretended to be an invalid so she could get a better seat and said "you a big mouth" when I told everyone? Am I suppose to ignore the fact that Henry the Club-car attendant looks like an over-fed harem eunuch? I’ve come to the conclusion that only the young and the inebriated can tolerate train travel.