This has not been a good evening for public transportation in the District. First I was dissed by the D6 driver downtown as I was hurried to catch the bus. I had crossed the street and waved at the driver, who was starting to accelerate from the stop. He saw me and pointed forward as if to indicate he would continue through the intersection and pick me up on the other side. So I’m running back across the skreet obli to see the bus not even slow down, buy continue full throttle on its route. Asshole.

This makes me about an hour later from when I wanted to get home so that I could pack for tonight’s trip. Buy it turns out I had plenty of time, even to shower up after the humidity of today’s persistant drizzle.

Then it’s back outside to wait for the 7:59 to take me to Union Station to catch my train. Oh, I’m going up for the weekend to visit with Franklin. I’m outside ten minutes early and Shreve(port) from upstairs comes outside too; he’s going out to party in Georgetown and is waiting for the D6 as well. The bus is more than 15 minutes late and I resort to desperate measures: call Goldy to see if she can give me (us) a ride to the station. Luckily she’s home and comes and picks us up. (She did, however, look as if she were planning to spend a night with a pirate.)

At the station I find that the line for the 198 Northeast Regional is redonk but getting on the train it isn’t that bad. Right now I’ve passed BWI and everyone still has a seat open to their side. The Conductor has told us this is a 7-car train. Amtrak has finally upgraded their notification system in the terminal from circa-1986 Zeniths with IBM-multicolor (cyan, magenta, that green- you know) to a refined monochromatic look that is actually easier to read.

The blond cutie across the aisle from me has popped open his Macbook and a scientific calculator. And of course an iPhone.

My car’s number is 44234. Nice.

Dude directly across the aisle from me gets on at Balmer, hon, and has an iPhone. That’s three within eyeshot.

I’m having a rum & diet Coke. J’adore le train travel.

Wow, iPods really are everywhere.

Franklin is driving me back on Sunday, and bringing down his old home theatre system which he’s giving to me. Ain’t that sweet? I’ve already warned Shreve(port) to tell the J/Ts if they hear lasers or explosions coming from the basement, not to worry.

Coming up on Aberdeen, MD, only about 30 mins to Wilmington! I better rush up on this cocktail.

How many times have I visited Franklin while he’s lived here? Hmmmm… Maybe six or seven? His place now is so much nicer and bigger than the studio he was in originally. Although it was cramped, he fixed it up nicely and we still had a great time.

Soundtrack for the train: Yaz. But now a text from Goldy makes me want to hear Ebn-Ozn.

Nice touch: 120v outlets at every seat to keep all batteries at their maximum.

Uhoh. Train stop 10 minutes south of Wilmington. Smell of burnt disc brakes. Okay, we’re moving. Keep chugging along 198. I think you can I think you can!

Wilmington!