Retrospectacular...(word patent pending)

I had taken a train down from San Francisco to Los Angeles during a visit to the Bay Area in the summer of 1999. I was visiting the somewhat insane roomate of my unadmitted girlfriend at the time, only later to find out that this roomate was not insane, but just from LA. Though I had taken many pictures during my time in the Bay Area, I had surprisingly forgot to take any during my short day-and-a-half side visit to LA. Though I crammed in a lot that was certainly worthy of pictures, I had only just remember my camera at one moment. This one moment spawned this one picture, and this one picture spawned this one series of memories from my train ride back to San Francisco.


As I stepped on the train, I remembered my train-ride down: alone, eating only various combinations of bread, peanut butter, and jelly, maybe smiling at a few strangers while listening to whatever plagued my cassette player at the time. This train ride back up was going to be different.

I remember this like it was yesterday.

After putting away my Walkman, filled with selections of Faith No More, Alice in Chains, and David Bowie, I took a step onto the train and looked both ways very quickly and made a seating choice even quicker.

And as I sat near a couple people, more people sat down all around us.

Our seats were near the end of the train, I believe two booths each with two benches facing eachother on each side, trailed by a single row of seats and all separated from the rest of the train by its doors. I think I sat in the row behind the booths.

I'm not really sure how conversation opened up, especially from my end. I tend to be eager to have conversations but I never find a way to open it up comfortably. Almost instantly stories began to flow and jokes began to fly. I can't for the life of me remember any of the conversations except for two:

One conversation was with a girl by the name of Jennifer. She was around 28 years old and from Fresno. The only thing I remember asking her is my usual question for people from towns like Fresno, "what exactly do you do in Fresno?" She then explained the usual answer: go out, go to concerts. Not like these are ever unacceptable answers, but rarely do I get responses like gardening or sword swallowing.

The other was a group conversation with a man who was roaming the country for work. He explained his past few weeks: going down to Los Angeles to provide for his family in Wisconsin. One of the guys in our group bought him a meal at one point. This working man also happens to be the man who is in my only picture from this weekend. He didn't want to be in the picture, but he was unfortunate enough to be one of the only guys left at the point when I realized I hadn't taken any pictures. So I took a photo out the window that was right next to him, which darkened his image.

At each stop there would always be a slight layover and some of us would venture outside the train for a few minutes, some to smoke, some to stretch their legs. One stop I remember in particular:

Jennifer was leaving at Fresno, and she and I ended up together outside the train, alone. I just remember that she was relavtively sad to see me go, more than I expected and I was flattered. She said a very sincere "awe, Barry..." somewhere in our parting, and as I stepped back on the train, I realized that that was a perfect time for a hug goodbye. I still regret it to this day. There is not a lot that beats a comfortable hug from a stranger. This situation has come up again, so I have at least succeeded at other times.

Slowly the group dwindled as people returned to their lives: Jennifer left at Fresno; the teenager and her younger brother I forget where; the working man somewhere else. I think this may be the only people I remember, though I seem to vaguely remember a well-built older man somewhere in the mix.

I was left with John. John was a corporal in the Australian army, roaming the States on leave from his duty. John and I got along and later ended up together with Michael, Elizabeth, and Kim in Caravan full of four Australians and one angry Irishman, rolling down the windiest road in the world, but that is a story for another day.