I’m on the, exceptionally brief, 5:22PM out of the City.
This train is an express to my very nice stop, with one prior stop to the very Very nice stop before my own. My Boss borrowed my family minivan for a thing he had to do today, but he let me drive his very very nice luxury sedan. The rules? From his house to my house last night. From my house to the very Very nice town station (for which he has a parking pass). Hop the train to work. Take care of business. Come back to the very Very nice town’s station and go back to his house to switch vehicles.
I’m on that second to last leg now.
A Seth Rogan looking ginger-haired fellow, with a full beard, is seated one seat over. Ginger-blonde, actually. A sharp nose. His claim to fame is a tweed jacket and a blue-gray plaid bow tie. This on a steel-gray plain button down cotton shirt. Already, this is an impressive feat of fashion excellence. He brings black horn rimmed glasses worthy of 1950’s rock and rollers, and high end, studio quality sound isolating headphones for his, now-antiquated iCrackerBot05.
Behind him sits a dejected Bill Nye. He is still regretting having participated in the publicly held debate regarding Creation vs Evolution. All it did was be a money maker for Ken Ham, and not a forum for reasonable discussion of what should be taught in science class. He’s still, while seated, itemizing the expense receipts for his accountants so that he doesn’t get audited by the God Fearing IRS.
A handsome North Indian couple is seated in my jump seat. Thankfully, she sits across from me, though he is rather good looking. She is curvy, but not overweight. She should smile more when she texts home to Mumbai. He is playing solitaire.
Also here are Molly Ringwald, Ban Ki Moon, Don Zimmer, and the Wicked Witch of the West. All are armed.
I just decided to hire a drum teacher. I just donated money to my Alma Mater. Homecoming, here we come.
Happy Wednesday. Safe travels.