Monday, April 30, 2007

DAY 11

Another sunny San Diego day. After getting directions from the concierge, I walked to the Bank of California to cash in some travelers' checks and then to the mail place to mail home more stuff. I was sorry to see the gray San Diego jacket I got in Imperial Beach go-- that thing was the vision of comfort.

Back at the hotel room, I talked with Big Ed on the cell phone that Sally had lent me. He surprized me by being home. It was three o'clock in the afternoon back east.

The concierge whose name was David took me in the Holiday Inn van to the train station. I discovered an earlier train to Los Angeles and the lady at the ticket counter said I could take that one instead. I did, and the conductor told me where the bottom car is that is reserved for elderly folk and folks like me with the walking stick.

I got there and sat. My attention was drawn to a man who was prominently reading "La Vision Christiana." I thought perhaps he was passing for a Mexican man but that illusion got shattered when he was asked by an older couple to please move and allow them purchase. He almost snarled then and gruffly removed his suitcase to the storage bin. I knew then that he was no Mexican. I took his picture just in case he proved out to be some sort of wild-eyed terrorist. He was already on the train by time I boarded in San Diego and he got off at Los Angeles just like me. I thought about reporting him but wtf was I going to say? Excuse me officer, but dude was rude and he ain't no Mexican genteel man. I was afraid that was going to get me put in the slammer. I hope nothing happens over the next few days. One thing I will do once I find the internet in Phoenix is to go over to the F.B.I. site and compare his picture to the mugshots.

I shot some final pics of the Pacific Ocean as we passed by. I missed a shot but got to see a whole flock of peligans flying in semi-formation [I didn't know they did that] to a tiny pond between the beach road and tracks. Wonderful birds they were. I never seen them before and I was fascinated.

Once in L.A. I went to Corbeta Street where I ate two delicious guacamole tacos with salsa, sucked up a diet soda, and then bought three half-poncho like rugs. Hallway runners is the size of them. And a suitcase to put them in. The square was setting up for an anniversary celebration on this coming Saturday. I would like to be there for it but I won't be. I will in Phoenix. I was delighted when my attempts at Spanish were met with questions as to my own ancestry. And I did get the runners a couple bucks cheaper each for it as well.

I redcapped it to the train after checking my new third piece of luggage. I settled into sleeper 11 [I had upgraded in San Diego] and met Tom, the very personable older steward for our sleeper section. I noticed then that the Carnivale bag I am using for my clothing is beginning to split a tiny bit near the bottom. So my impulsive purchase turned out to be somewhat useful. I will send the old one home and keep the new one for clothing.

The man who was in charge of taking reservations for dinner-- Ken-- by contrast to Tom, was very stressed. He asked me to come back at 6:30. I did. Then he still couldn't give me a reservation. I looked at him and said, "I can't keep climbing these stairs" and sat down to wait. Within a few minutes, the station had telephoned in the reservations for dinner that they had made and I was first in line. The train left just about 6:30 p.m. as I was waiting and my reservation was at 7.

I was seated with Melissa [business writer] and her husband Greg [biology prof at University of San Diego, panentology and !herper! on sabattical celebrating their anniversary in New Mexico. Shortly thereafter came Mark who turned out to be a 70 year old retired neurosurgeon. They talked mostly of the "what do you do" and "where are you going" sort of thing. The neurosurgeon confessed when prodded to being familiar with Oliver Sachs if not with his writing itself and the couple nodded their familiarity with him being "strange." "Reclusive and shy," I said in response. Gabe or someone on Medscape had mentioned that so I had known it too.

I thought the woman in particular to be a bit stuck on herself. I couldn't get a read of genuine from her, a bit more genuine oozed from the herp guy. As for the neurosurgeon Mark, he was pleasant enough. Yet I felt like I was on the outside looking in instead of actually joining in with the conviviality. It appeared to me as if I had been judged somehow as being lower class or not accomplished enough or something. Maybe that is my own hang-up/bit of self-esteem that still needs improving, but there it is. I was a bit put out when Melissa and Greg ordered wine with their dinner and indeed had sucked up the bottle by time they were through. I also had to continually remind myself to shut up and let each one finish their conversation, even though my thoughts had been cut off at the first sentence at times. Somehow that doesn't seem quite right to me. I haven't figured this out yet. It is as if the brain injury has left me with some verbosity which means that I contribute more to conversations and people are prone to cutting off the long winded ones such as myself. At least I wasn't gaseous tonight.

After dinner, Tom turned down my bed. He explained that the feet should lay in the direction the train is traveling in case there is a wreck that will prevent nasty things like snapping necks. Okay I said and I agreed to follow that line of thinking. Most everyone in Amtrak has worked trains for one or two decades. I figure they know more about quite a few more things than I do.

We are losing time and thus losing sleep. It will be an early detrainment tomorrow in Phoenix so I am signing off for now.

sapphoq n friends

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