THE LAST TRAIN TO CLARKSVILLE

Union Station does it for me. Every time I walk into that space, I feel like I am stepping into something sacred. The way the sun streams in through the floor to ceiling windows causes me to gasp and even when it is a mess like it is right now because they’re getting the holiday decorations up, I can’t help myself from getting lost in the light and shadows reflected on the marble tile floor. The last time we were there, we had some time to kill as we waited for a shop to open. The morning had turned from normal errands to feeling touristy. I looked at Michael and said “Let’s go see if there’s a train we can get on and just go somewhere.” Now, as I just typed that, I know exactly who I sound like. It’s almost like he’s whispering in my ear.

Dad.

Dad was my adventure partner. He was the one giving permission to ride any and all airplanes at the fly-ins. It was his truck that we’d jump into to go chase down the hot air balloon or follow the firefighters out to a grass fire. Dad was the one that would suggest we go to the airport and see how many airports we could go see in one day. We never got around to that one and now I have serious regrets for not ever responding to this crazy shenanigan with anything other than “YES!'“ All of those car dealership drives he did? He didn’t do those just for the money. He did those drives because he loved the adventure of hitting the road and just going somewhere.

Micheal and I walked to the Amtrak area to look at the schedule and if there had been any trains leaving in the next ten minutes, I think I could have convinced Michael to get on it with me. Really, though we could have been killing time at the airport or the bus station and I would have said “hey, let’s try to catch the next flight or bus!” It’s just that those places aren’t as nice to hang out in as our Union Station. Our airport is a giant mess at the moment with three different terminals and construction for a new airport that will connect all the terminals in progress. The whole romantic setting of our Union Station should draw more train traffic than it really does. As it is now, there are only two or three train departures a day from the Kansas City station and we had already missed the morning ones. If we had been there earlier, we could have had dinner in Chicago. Instead we just looked into taking the train to Chicago for Spring Break next year.

The train is a mode of travel I have yet to experience for more than an hour or so. The last time I was on a train was in December of 2019 and I rode it from DC to Baltimore so I could spend the evening with Bradley and Ethan. That was the last trip I took before the world shut down and thank goodness it included that epic party in the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History. In my mind, riding the train is just like all the old black and white movies I used to watch. It is a romantic notion and I have dreams of riding the train just to sit for hours staring out the window or focusing on some writing project. My friend Jeff has ridden the train a number of times from here to St. Louis to visit his parents and he said that he always ends up sitting next to the drunk guy. He said there’s always drunk people on the train. My friend Jason disagrees with Jeff. He said he’s always had a pleasant time riding the train. I think they’re both right.

That day, Michael and I didn’t get on a train. We settled for planning our next adventure and just being tourists in this city with riding the streetcar and wandering around Pryde’s in Westport, talking ourselves out of ridiculous kitchen gadgets. As we walked around Westport trying to decide on lunch, our friend Aaron yelled at us from across the street, where he was bartending at Kellys and we ended up having a beer while chatting with Aaron while we figured out where to eat lunch. We had another beer at Mickey’s Hideaway where we settled for lunch. The walls are papered with an old high school yearbook and Michael pointed to a picture behind me. It was picture of James Westphal, a local celebrity thanks to Paul Rudd’s character in Anchorman. They were college roommates and Michael knows James from his bartending days.

We eventually made our way back to where we had parked the car, getting almost as many steps in as we would roaming around on vacation. And, yeah…we didn’t get on an Amtrak train to head out on an adventure, but we didn’t really need to in order to have a day of being a tourist.

SPONTANEOUS

Here is what was on my weekend to-do list: laundry, grocery shopping, bin buying, camper clean out, general household cleaning, balloon ride.

I checked all of those things off my list except for the hot air balloon ride. That got cancelled because of wind, but I’m not too upset about that. When I got home from grocery shopping, Michael helped me unload the car and said “let’s be tourists today.” I was still a little bit pouty over the canceled balloon ride, but shrugged and replied “I’ve never been to the Toy and Miniature Museum.” So, we hopped on our scooters in search of lunch before heading to the museum. We found Earl’s Premier while we were looking for something else and it turned out to be a very very good accidental find. It is the kind of restaurant that feels like someplace we’d visit while on vacation. Oysters consumed, we made our way over to the Toy and Miniature Museum, marveling at tiny replicas of chairs and feeling nostalgic over toys. There was one display that contained a grouping of toys for certain years. I looked at this display and said “I had that toy from the 70s, most of those things from the 80s and that Beanie Baby from the 90s.” And since this made me feel old, I dragged Michael over to the Art Deco exhibit at the Nelson so we could look at things older than us.

When it was time for the balloon glow, we decided it would be better to ride the bus than it would be to deal with parking and I am really glad we did this. The event was filled to capacity. Luckily, Michael and I arrived early enough to not have to wait in line too long for food from a food truck, but we were meeting the Cabbage and that side of the family. They did not arrive early. I sat on our blankets as a place holder while Michael and the others scattered off to the food trucks. I waited for ever for someone to come back. I kept watching the fading light and then I’d look up at the spot where I really wanted to be to get good pictures. There were already some people camped out in that spot. Finally, I sent a text that basically read “I might not be here when you get back.” and I started climbing my up to a good vantage point.

I made it to that spot, but there were already three photographers set up there, two of them with tripods. I kind of stood back hesitantly like a wallflower. One of the women noticed me and said “Hey! You want to come over here? We can make space for you!” Then she slid some gear bags over so I could get in the space. I set my camera up on the stone wall and then proceeded to make myself as small as possible so I wouldn’t be in their way. This was unnecessary and a direct symptom of my own insecurities. Two of the women chatted with me about small talky subjects and camera preferences. Then when the show started, we all started clicking shutters and giggling. Trying to capture a balloon all lit up was like trying to capture lightning. It was like we were playing a photographer’s strange version of whack-a-mole. Eventually, I decided to leave that spot for something closer. I thanked all of them for sharing the space with me and they said they’d see me next year.

That was the best part of my day.

For a brief amount of time, I was pulled into a circle of photographers and I was treated like an equal. I got to hang out with the cool kids. I saw respect and understanding when I talked about the reasons for choosing my current camera, because I didn’t just sound like I knew what was talking about. I knew what I was talking about. The moment reminded me of all the times Chad and I went on photo walks together. In that moment, every irritation and annoyance disappeared. Tension and stress from things happening in my life melted away. In that moment, I allowed myself to stop pretending to be a photographer and just let myself be a photographer.

I stopped judging myself.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Travel day

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Today, I am headed to Washington D.C. for a cell biology conference. The last, and only time, I was in DC was for a high school band trip with an itinerary packed so full that I didn’t have time to take a breath, let alone actually really see anything. The worst moment of that trip was when our charter bus pulled up to the National Mall and our tour guide said “Do you see these Smithsonian Museums? Pick one. You’ve got one hour.” I flew through the Natural History Museum as if I was being chased by tigers. I have a hazy memory of a giant whale and the Hope diamond. I don’t expect that I will have much time for sightseeing on this trip either. I’ve already booked a round trip train ticket to Baltimore for an evening with friends where I get to Baltimore around 4:00 in the afternoon and leave at 5:30 in the morning the next day.

I told my friends that I would be sneaking out of their house that morning. I’m reliving my twenties.

This (too) short visit to Baltimore and the conference are going to take up a majority of my time. I have done some research on places where I might leave Chris and I have narrowed down my list of possible museum visits. Really, I have done the most research on where I am going to eat while I am there. There’s a place called Hip City Veg that I am very excited about and it is like a vegan Shake Shake. DC saw an influx in Ethiopian refugees in the 70s and 80s, fleeing from a war-torn nation. Because of this, Ethiopian food is a big part of the food scene in DC. My plan is to eat my weight in y’ misir we’t and injera. I also have a vegan falafel place on my list. In fact, I am more excited about my food options than I am about seeing the Capitol. Which is fine. My belly can be the tourist on this trip. Really…my belly tends to be the tourist on most trips.

Food is culture and I can’t think of a better way to explore a city and learn about the people who live there then by eating their food.

I’m excited to finally be going back to Washington DC and having the opportunity to explore it in a completely different way. DC in December is bound to be beautifully decorated with colorful lights. The weather is supposed to be mild. My conference schedule has filled up with talks and demos that I think sound really interesting. It is also a spicy time to be in DC with all the political drama. And as I sit here thinking about it all, I have to stop and take a moment to be grateful for such an opportunity. Sometimes my life really looks like it couldn’t possibly belong to me. Both in good ways and bad ways. Right now, in this moment, I am thankful for the good.