Walkin' them tracks till that train come a choo-chooing along (or Why Today Was Not a Waste)
December 30, 2002 ~ 6:54 p.m.
Today served up about as good a slice of the sort of why-me, anti-kismet shenanigans that life is capable of. But, I am home and on vacation, so I did not mind. Nothing can really faze me this week. Not even the Pats losing their division to the stinkin� New York Jets can get me down.
I stayed over my sister�s and BIL�s house this weekend to housesit and feed the animals (three birds, one guinea pig and a cat), something I have always been willing to do in the past whenever they went to New Hampshire.
This morning, Sis � upon leaving the house for work � woke me up at 7:30 a.m. and asked if I would take the train with her into Boston. This was far too early for me. I declined and said that her husband, Jimmy, could drop me off at the train station later. I slept until 10:30 when the phone rang. It was Sis. I woke Jimmy up, and while he talked with her, I threw myself together. Then he gave me a lift to the Norwood Depot train station.
We arrived at the station at 11:18. I hopped out of his truck and ran across to the schedule board only to discover that the train to Boston came through at 11:16. I�d missed the train by two lousy minutes and another one would not arrive until 12:43. My brother-in-law was well down the road, driving away.
I was damned if I was going to wait well over an hour at the station and I wasn�t hungry for a bite to eat in the center of town, so I walked the tracks to Islington station and then trudged on further to Dedham Corp./Route 128. Walking through the snow covering the tracks was actually easier than stumbling along the gravel beneath it, although my sneakers did get a bit wet. I decided to stop at the Dedham station because there were only 20 minutes remaining till the train came. And as I had no idea if I could make it to Endicott station in time, I figured it was just as well.
I walked over to the outbound side of the tracks because it was sunny there and had a bench. I spread out on the bench and relaxed limbs that were now beginning to ache slightly. Unfortunately, I became so engrossed in the copy of The Boston Metro that I was reading, that when the inbound train did come, I noticed it too late. It rolled in and completely blocked access to the inbound side of the tracks. I started running the length of the station, hoping to get to the other side through the break in the barrier and then back up in time, but I stood no chance of making it. With very little commuters getting on or off at the station, it rolled on before I even made it halfway. Chastising myself for being ten kinds of idiot, I stuffed the paper in my knapsack and, again with nothing better to do and at a station in the middle of an industrial nowhere, trudged on to Endicott.
Now this is where it really gets surreal. An outbound train rolled in just a minute after I arrived at Endicott station. So I boarded it and rode along the six miles worth of track that I had just walked along! But now I was feeling very hungry, and thirsty to boot, so Norwood Pizza in the center of town was just what I needed to kill some time till the 2:30 p.m. inbound train came. It was now 1:15.
I ate stuffed shells and drank vitamin-enriched, watermelon-flavored water and read The Boston Herald that I�d found on the outbound train. Then I went back to Norwood station and caught the train to Boston. I finally arrived in the city at 3 p.m.
I walked through the Financial District to my sister�s office. When she saw me come out of the elevator, she just said, �You�re a little late for lunch, creep.�
But I talked to some of her co-workers who, wouldn�t you know, had heard so much about me; and I understand one of them has the serious hots for me, but shhh! Don�t tell � Can�t say I blame her though � here�s me, slim, with roguishly long hair and blazing blue eyes, dressed stylishly in a long wool coat. You get the picture. Now, honestly, who could resist?
Anyway, to dispense with this disgusting display of narcissism, I then headed home on the #304 express bus to the suburbs and came home. Cracked open a Samuel Adams. And laughed.
The thing is, this was not the waste of a perfectly good day that some would assert. I was outside during the best part of the day and although temperatures barely made it out of the 20s, I found it fresh and invigorating. It was another beautifully sunny day, not a cloud in the blue, blue sky. I got some damn good exercise.
Also, I used to walk the tracks a lot during my 20s, when I had jobs in Woburn and Concord. I would walk the lines to get to work. I discovered that, at both sites, it was easier to get to the offices from the tracks than from the road � shortcuts, if you will. Track-walking soon became a bit of an obsession and I think the furthest I have ever walked along them is 12 miles (Waltham to West Concord). Not for work either, mind you. For fun. Was I crazy? Perhaps. Was I fit? Oh yes.
And even though I�ve never walked the Norwood line before, train tracks are train tracks. Not much difference. And so, even though today did not go at all according to plan, it did not come as an inconvenience.
Rather it was a serendipitous blast from the past and a day I�ll remember fondly when I�m back in Britain.
� M.E.M.
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Copyright � 2001-2007 by M.E. Manning. All material is written by me, unless explicitly stated otherwise by use of footnotes or bylines. Do not copy or redistribute without my permission.
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