A part of me finds something deeply nostalgic, almost romantic, about trains. Classic cinema and literature feature countless riveting and emotional train scenes. White hankies waving goodbye out windows. Couples stealing a last few moments as the whistle blows. Tramps and hobos hopping free rides from one town to the next. Bing Crosby and friends staying up all night singing in the club car in "White Christmas."
Today I took the train home. Not my first train ride, but my first time taking it home, and my first in the States that didn't just take me to the airport. It was late, bumpy, cold, and nowhere near nostalgic or romantic. But it got me home, and I think that's all that matters.
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