Life is Fast

The rhythmic motion of the train mirrored that of a canvas hammock swaying back and forth tied between two trees while on vacation in Fiji. The fresh air carried various scents from sharp Eucalyptus oils found within the well-manicured landscapes when visiting college friends in California, to the putrid odor of ocean mud flats when the tied was out but the clams were in. These smells wafted in and out of consciousness quickly entering the noise cavity and no sooner leaving to be replaced by another, but each carrying a distinct memory, or a place, time and person associated with the aroma.

The cadence of the tracks clipped at a regular beat and the sound of the wheels hitting the exact spot where the tracks connect to each other functioned as white noise consistent to that of a small prop plane with the propellers whirling round and round and round in a calming hum. It was the combination of the swaying movement of the train cabin and the sound of the tracks that afforded Stephanie’s brain to disconnect for a much-needed nap on a Tuesday in July.

As the smell of the mud flats presented itself in what felt like a concentrated burst of air, she recounted a particularly uncomfortable memory of her first high school boyfriend which ended with tears, a boot full of mud and a long overdue breakup from Alan.

As with most first loves, this had the predictable drama, inspired by the inability to communicate often associated with teenagers who are ill equipped to manage their emotions. What should have been an innocent romance turned nasty during the final fight on the mud flats.

Alan was bent at the waist with an exaggerated three finger garden trow long enough to penetrate deep into the gooey mud during low tide to scoop out clams living at that level. A sun weathered red plastic sled was used to carry the garden trow along with a white five-gallon pvc bucket intended to hold the clams. All these items and more, being stacked and pulled by a simple thick twin rope at the top of the sled. The rope was raw with strong, sharp fibers escaping the tight weave, that you really needed to wear gardening gloves to pull it. The sled was an essential tool to the clammer as it could slide on the mud flats where humans were guaranteed to stick in.

On that afternoon school day, Stephanie was wearing rubber boots she borrowed from her brother Mike barely able to walk exacerbated by the fact they were two sizes too big, but absolutely necessary when clamming. At least this was one educational nugget she learned from Alan, albeit not much else. After four months of dating, she was accompanying him to spend time together when the realization of their future was clarified.

If he was not clamming two tides which required his attention for two hours each, he wanted to go drink in the woods with his sophomore buddies and shoot handguns at the empty cans. Conversation was limited to people that annoyed them, clamming and money they were making, illegal beer drinking, driving fast and what they would order online to alter their second-hand trucks. At first, Stephanie enjoyed the routine of the events and was youthfully giddy at having a boyfriend to hold hands with, but after four months, she was the wiser to her own needs. Needs that explored a more academic depth and the right of passage getting into a college, a richer understanding into the culture of the new Somali family that moved in town a year ago, and the seriousness of learning Spanish for the future possibility of conducting business in South America.

With Alan’s inability to creatively think outside his small circle of friends and his lack of listening skills, Stephanie was on the mud flats in a last attempt to ask him if they were going to the winter dance. With Alan’s lack of knowledge to this event and his low groaning whist pulling up mud patty after mud patty, Stephanie had her confirmation - they were done. As she said as much, with little reaction from him, she turned and slowly squished her way out of the mud. It was not the loud dramatic exit she saw on television soap operas, but finite non the less.

It is a universal time stamp on how a song, or a smell will invoke memories of people, and situations and like looping a Hollywood motion camera reel, replay the location and situation as if it were yesterday. For good or for bad memories, but memories that at the age of 40 afforded Stephanie the ability reflect on what she learned and how to move on. I mean, at 40, she had enough of them behind her to have them and so much living in front of her to change directions as a result of what she learned.

During that school night, she recalled struggling to get free of the mud flats which would end in falling on her left knee and in the process of trying to get up, scooping mud into the knee-high rubber boot. Upon looking back at Alan, who not only didn’t acknowledge the comment about breaking up, but he also did nothing toward any physical action to try to help her stand up. Which, of course, encouraged tears. Tears for the wasted four months getting to know Alan, and tears for the reality that she prioritized his needs over hers and she was in that moment intimately aware that she let her schoolwork slide and would need the next three weekends to not only catch up but to get ahead.

The train jolted sharply while intersecting a new direction on the tracks and Stephanie awoke from a very deep nap. With the usual stretching and deep breaths that allow the brain and eyes to refocus as one would when they first wake up, Stephanie’s countenance changed from a relaxed and peaceful state to a confused and alarmed one as she took in her surroundings.

Jumping to her feet and doing quick and sharp head turns to the left and right, she could digest she was on a train with small square windows, traveling in the woods. Breathing deeply and forcefully pushing her exhaled breath toward the floor, she stood firm with her hands stiffly at her side and her palms horizontal to the floor. While simultaneously snapping her arms at the elbow, she would shake her head from side to side is short, quick movements and say out loud, “Ok, where am I and how did I get here?” It was of zero consolation that when she actually looked around and focused on her environment she realized she was the only person in the train car. Now panic started to set in and she aggressively started to search her jean pockets, and the pockets of her flannel shirt for a train ticket or schedule or anything that would clarify why she was napping on a train. It was then that she almost started to cry, but she caught herself and declared, “Smart, intelligent women do not cry of such misunderstandings. Get it together girl and think, there is logic to be found!”

While standing, she looked about as she felt a strong gust of sea wind hit her face causing the sides of her hair to dance in the wind. The wind also hit her eyes and she blinked rapidly before she sat down to look out the windows.

She was in an old-fashioned tourist train circa 1888 by the Barney and Smith Co. for First Class service similar to that on the Milwaukee Lake Shore & Western Railway. This association was crystal clear because she was just last week researching fun vacation spots and unique ways to travel to them. To that end, there was an association!

The train car was long and had lots of split-level square windows that only opened from the top down, but the top half had the option to open by being lowered or to say up. That way, fresh air entered the cabin but not at the face level of the passengers. There were decorative trim patterns around the wood windows, just like she remembered from her research, but the seating was not fancy, unlike the research she remembered. One solid black leather cushion was the seating and the multiple benches were placed in a row, similar to a school bus in which all faced in the same direction the train was moving. Two rows, with an ample middle to move about.

This small recollection started her thinking, “Was I on vacation? Was someone getting married, and this was a destination wedding?” The association might be helpful to the mystery as to why she was on a train.

Stephanie fixated on the scenery questioning if she was in Seattle or San Francisco at the same time putting a bent index finger to her mouth while biting her lower lip. The train was at that moment over a body of water on a tall and gently curving track to the left that was bending toward the sun. This arch allowed her to see the beginning of the train and noticed she was in the fourth car.

The water seemed like the ocean versus a pond or lake, at least the stench smelled like the familiar ocean during low tide those many years ago during clamming season. The landscape was a combination of matured, solid, tall pine trees, evergreen trees, and oak trees, with extremely large boulders naturally scattered about here and there. Since the train was too old for an electronic marque that would list upcoming destinations, and no ticket nor schedule was found, she guessed it was the Seattle area having visited there when she attended technology tradeshows for her first job.

Oddly, in this state of panic and confusion, she was still able to pop in her mind the irony of wanting to take a long weekend to travel by old fashioned railway and go up north. As quickly as this pleasant memory entered her mind, she slapped her thighs and stood up to refocus on the situation at hand. This was serious and needed to be addressed as soon as possible.

She was at the front of the train car during her nap, the area that is most noisy since it is where car connects to car just on the outside of the door. Taking a moment to listen to her body, she wanted to know if she was drugged or if any bruises seemed to appear on her arms. Rolling up the cuffs on the shirt and turning over forearms was a start. Then she ran her hands down her belly and patted her hips. She was trying to feel if any pain from bruising connected to her nerves. In doing so , she found her small wallet in her upper front jeans pocket with all credentials accounted for. Franticly looking through the mini wallet for any ticket or communication of why she was on the train. Since the wallet was the size of an oversized business card, not much was in it but a license, an automobile club card, a credit card, and some money. Since the money only equaled $40, it did not seem likely that a long-term trip was planned.

As she was starting to assemble the contents back in their place, she did a double take and snapped her license back into her view and noticed it was a California drivers license. This deepened the despair since she lived in Maine. Stopping one foot and slapping the license back and forth over her left hand, she was in a desperate situation as mystery soon turned into what was starting to feel like something much more sinister.

While putting her wallet back in her pants pocket, she was looking toward the back of the car for any clue when she saw the back of a gentleman in a long black wool jacket down to the middle of his calf that had a seven-inch split in the bottom-center of the back which allowed for ease of movement. She noticed the edges of the jacket danced as he was exiting her train car and shuffling through the doorway to enter the adjoining car toward the tail of the train.

“Wait.. hello THERE… EXCUSE ME!,” was shouted with each question getting louder than the other as Stephanie picked up her pace first walking then speed walking then a healthy gallop. Ironically, she noticed it was easier to run on a moving train than to walk as the momentum of her body had better balance against the shift of the train which was logical with inertia.

The old train was set up in a manual mode back in the 1800’s and exiting from one car to the next was not necessarily fashionable in its sensibilities. Once you entered, you sat, either in your private first class enclosed cabin or in your car suitable for the public. There was too much danger to travel from car to car and to do so was reserved for the professional staff who had physically trained on how to navigate the cars, were authorization from the rail line, and recognized the personal risk in the action, so it was not as a simple task.

First open the door, then stand outside the door on a small platform, all the while the earth below the train is moving at a rather fast clip. The senses are hit all at once with exaggerated levels of sounds from the clicking of the metal-track-to-metal-wheel, the sounds of wood crunching as the train lunges into a turn and the stiff frame is adjusting to bend, and the fragrant smells of the ocean water, the mud flats, the pine trees, the trains oil supply lubricating behemoth spring coils and screws the size of baseballs which are within eyesight.

The platform connects to an adjacent platform by a metal bar painted over and over again with black paint. She surmised it was probably as a visual effect to the public more so as to remove the dull flat gray metal look originally produced in the mills. The platform Stephanie was on held a metal bar with a round ball at the end. The platform to which she was attempting to walk on was complimented with an eyelet extension. The two pieces naturally fit together and had springs, screws, and safety cables to support weight, movement and to mitigate the risk of a disconnection and separation from car to car while moving.

The leap was a long stride, easy enough for an adult, a bit more challenging for a child, and the action caused a strong gust of wind upward between the scissoring of her legs and triggered her front pant leg to balloon open as the wind strategically forced its way into the cuff.

Once safely on the platform, the revers took place of opening the door toward the outside, then closing it off to the cabin.

To her horror, the man was nowhere to be found.

Slowing down her tempo while her breathing was heightened from the jump and adrenaline, she held on to the black leather seats and started to frantically dart up and down and around with her eyes and head looking in and around the seats while still calling out, “Hello,” until she reached the end of the train car and once again, jumped from train car to train car.

It was evident from this second platform to platform jump that the wind was stronger because the area outside the cars started to whistle which was associated with fast gusts of wind entering tubular shapes at a fast pace. She also took notice that the ground moved quicker, and the geography outside entered your view at heightened speed through the myriad of windows. At this point, the physical feel of the car was more a jolting sensation than a lulling rhythmic motion as it rolled around on the tracks. This sharp movement, the whistling of the wind, and the trees whisking by at rapid pace were all confirmation that the train was speeding up.

Beyond the ability to comprehend what was going on, Stephanie had an overwhelming feeling that she needed to get off this speeding bullet. The increased speed, the mystery around how and why she was on the train, the lack of passengers, the incorrect state license and this shadow of a man flushed her body with unease and her core body temperature started to rise that she started to sweat small beads on her upper lip and around her forehead. With that, she looked around for a safe way to jump off the train.

Now two cabins down from her original starting point, she remembered that the outside platform not only connected car to car at its virtual end but had a side stairwell for the conductors to enter. This made sense as the passenger steps would retract up and inside the train car cabin for safety and aerodynamic functionality.

She was in the middle of the cabin when she decided to turn and head back to the platform she just currently jumped through.

She opened the door inward, and it almost pinned her hand to the wall as she was greeted with cyclone-like gusts of wind pushing her back inside. Since the door opening was facing the same end where the train engine was, the flow of air was appropriately pushing in the same direction, and she immediately wanted to recant her decision to use this entrance instead of the entrance at the other end of the tracks where the wind would have been at the tail of the gust instead of the top of the gust.

Using pure determination, Stephanie grabbed the thin black metal railing that was originally built to serve as a weak form of security when traveling from cabin to cabin to level one’s stability against the unstable cars.

She quickly took note that while she was facing the direction of the moving train, to the left was water. The exact scene she awoke to just moments ago and acknowledged the sharp descend in altitude over a cliff before the body would connect to water. The right side held thick woods and there were patterns where flat, soft grassy openings would appear. This side would be her exit route.

Sliding along the trains outer build and to the right, she grasped the black, metal stair railing, built with thick iron strong enough to hold substantial weight and milled as part of the train frame instead of being secured to the train with bolts.

There were only three steps that descended to the ground but tucked back so the bottom step was flush to the train width, so no steps protruded outside the cabin width. Stepping to the bottom step still required her to pop her head forward to see what was around the bend in order to jump. The wind was stinging her eyes and her flannel shirt was whipping around at the bottom, causing her to tuck back into the fold of the platform and tie the bottom of her shirt around each other at the base as to form a tight knot at her belly. Having previously experienced her ballooning pants, tying the shirt shut was a safer option than just buttoning it down where wind could easily enter and puff up her shirt like a blueberry.

The train had a straight away and she took a second peek around the corner. It afforded her the knowledge she needed to jump off and onto a long stretch of healthy green grass in view. Having only seen this stunt on television, she could only hope her intense necessity to get off the train surpassed any bodily injuries she might incur.

One, two, three, JUMP… as her body seemed to take flight of its own, her feet hit the ground and she was shocked out of sleep.

With moist dew all about her head, face, neck, and chest, she sat upright awoken to a 5am alarm that coincided with soft sun kissed light making the bedroom glow.

Stephanie took a minute to review some facts and took inventory of everything in the room that was within eyesight. Recognizing the bed, the room, the artwork, and the furniture, she reached for the alarm that was still emitting an acceptable pitch and turned it off.

Now out of bed, she went to the writing table under the window and found her small wallet in the upper top drawer and pulled out her license. It confirmed Maine. Putting that down, she walked into the closet and noticed her jeans and flannel shirt from yesterday over the hamper cover.

A bit less frantic, Stephanie concluded that she had a dream, or at some point in the story, a nightmare, and tilted her head, scratched her cheek, turned up her bottom lip then accepted it, shook her head then grabbed a towel for the shower.

She was on vacation for the next two weeks and wanted to start looking for a potential career change out of technology as it did not satisfy her anymore. This desire to change had been weighing on her mind for the past year and with every passing month heightened in its possibilities that it would be a reality.

As she sat down to review options on her computer she was paralyzed when she saw the search engine history was that of an 1800’s old fashion passenger train with breathtaking views and charm of days gone by.

She recounted that approaching her time off, months prior, she researched destinations that held once in a lifetime experience for vacation considerations. She also took notice of the ticket discount taking place within the next four weeks starting today, the same day of her vacation. Just as she was clicking deeper into the pages of the vintage train ride, her phone rang.

It was Judy, her childhood friend whose family moved to California when they were in middle school, but at that age, friendships run deep. They were two peas-in-a-pod, inseparable in middle school, and pen pals in adulthood, and taking occasional destination vacation together once every three years.

Judy called to invite Stephanie to stay with her in California for the next week while her parents went to her brothers to help with his first-born child.

It was known that they were having their first kid, but the timetable as to when her parents would visit was not firm. There was talk of being at the hospital, or a week after the birth or within the first three months after birth. It just happened it was decided, and last night they left for the trip.

After Judy and Stephanie hung up, her mind was swimming in parallel coincidences – the timing of the invitation to stay in California when she was at a tipping point of considering moving to California, the discounted vintage train ride during the exact same time as her vacation which started in California and weaved its way up the coast to Seattle, and her clothing that resembled the clothing worn on the train in her dream. Universal messages were stacking up.

Using her credit card, Stephanie bought a ticket substantially discounted because she used accumulated points and took off that same day on a redeye.

Having spent an overwhelming successful five days with Judy confirmed Stephanie’s desire to move to California and they arranged a plan. Stephanie would stay at her place until she could explore the area and find a place to live. And since her current job, though not a desirable career, was a functioning role in a remote environment, the pressure of earning money was off the plate for now.

The last of her vacation was booked with the vintage passenger train company in which she would spend the two days traveling from California to Seattle, stopping halfway as part of the package to sleep over in a quaint seaside town before finishing the train ride and flying back to Maine to prepare moving to California.

Judy could not make the trip but did drive her to the train station and saying their goodbyes “for now” until a month later when Stephanie would be living with Judy in San Diego.

The train was exactly as Stephanie saw on the website and with great glee and exuberance she breathed deeply and sat down in a cabin that held multiple, square half windows, and positioning herself sitting on the west side of the train. It was a relief to see many travelers who too wanted to purchase this unique experience.

As she sat in contemplation, the noise of polite society exited her thoughts and senses as she closed her eyes letting the morning sun warm her face.

Being a realist but also understanding that thoughts manifest desire, Stephanie would remember other similar instances where a dream, a lengthy, detailed dream, would reveal its true self, such as when she was in the market for a BMW and had a dream about it. Within two days, a client happened to drive in the parking lot of her work with one for sale. The heavily discounted price was his wife’s aggressive desire to sell, and the year, make and model hit the mark for her. She was driving her “dream” within that day.

A soothing voice brought Stephanie out of the clouds. The voice asked if they could sit by her. She turned away from the window, and his face absorbed the soft illumination of the rising sun which highlighted his green eyes, warm Italian skin, jet black hair and captivating smile to emit. Before she could truly see him, she automatically responded, “Yes, of course,” and moved her satchel off the seat.

As she regained focus, she could not help but notice that the gentleman was wearing a long black wool jacket down to the middle of his calf that had a seven-inch split in the center-bottom of the back which allowed for ease of movement as the edges danced when he sat down.

With a smile, Stephanie spoke within, “Just like a speeding train, life moves at an incredible pace. Learning from the lessons and people you meet along the way, some to discover what not to do and others offered to you in an adventure.”