𝗦𝗟𝗔𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗙🍩🍩𝗟: Back to the Midwest, January, 2001

Jan. 15, 2001 - The trip back was quick and mostly uneventful. The trains were running on time and the weather was pleasant until we got north of St. Louis. Then it became the traditional gray gloom I expect from Midwestern winters.

Food wasn’t much to crow about on the run north, but the car attendant had a well-stocked selection of liquids and sweets, so I imbibed heavily on Diet Pepsi and bottled water. I could also not resist the Ghirardelli mint chocolate squares or the cream cheese danish. Top that with the Irish whiskey nightcap before sacking and that’s all the culinary highlights for the trip home.

Radio scanning the conversation between Amtrak personnel and dispatchers was amusing at times. For the most part it was professional and to the point, but with some insights and observations from time to time on things affecting the train or within eyesight. I gained a perspective on the workings that most passengers are not privy to. We’re not talking about big time stuff here, just little things here and there, not unlike the scenery as it passed by.

Got into Springfield, Illinois only ten minutes late and boarded the van to Galesburg. There were six of us going that way, including a strikingly attractive woman in her fifties who had some major Annette Bening qualities in her face. Also along for the ride was a typical wandering fiftyish dirthead who I thought was going to be physically ill over the fact that we had a long layover in Galesburg until the California Zephyr arrived. I thought about telling him that it just means he could have a four-hour marathon smoke break, but instead piped up about the four hour wait being nothing in comparison to a 17-hour self-imposed layover I endured once at the St. Louis bus station. So much for weak, manly comeuppance.

Conversation struck up between the Bening look alike with the eyes one could fall into, the dirthead bound for Elko, and an older Latina with a propensity for small talk. In the course of this chat, 'Dirthead' revealed truths about him that seemed to confirm his dirt-head status: his trumped up OWI, his multiple marriages, the many places he had been 'stuck' in (His propensity for being bent out of shape when 'stuck' somewhere indicated to me that he shouldn’t be traveling in the first place.), and how his first wife took off with their baby girl whom he has not seen since. And probably was a good thing too.

So the women are just eating this shit up. I’ve seen this many times over and don’t know whether they are getting off on this soap opera of the oral treatment, or if its a biological thing juicing up the ovaries.

I have this theory that women are biologically attracted to men who appear to be well apt in surviving questionable situations. I figure it’s a gene pool thing so that your young’ns would have a better chance of surviving a knife fight or such. It may have been a good thing back in the olden days when you needed the biological huevos to hold back a menacing predator with just a rock and a pointy stick. But not necessarily good in these modern times when you and your drinkin’ buddy set off against each other with broken beer bottles cos’ you both dig the same piece of ass.

Procreation for the sake of increasing the prison population is not my idea of natural selection. But of course this could be just the jealous rantings of a 'safe guy'. Maybe I just need to beat the shit out of someone in order to get laid on a regular basis.

I get into Ottumwa on time and spend the night with the Siegels. I dumped a load of El Paso candy on the table for the young Siegel boys to fight over. But there wasn’t much of a scuffle, so I was disappointed. I cleansed myself of my funky aromas and Siegel and I passed the night watching an installment of Ken Burns' Jazz and watching Cradle Will Rock, a New Deal era movie about the red-baited Federal Theatre Project.

Jan. 16 - That afternoon I accompanied Siegel over to Melcher-Dallas. While Steve delved into labor negotiations with the school board, I delved into Joe Willy's, a bar on the north side of the square that Jim and I had come across many years ago.

I had a nice relaxed evening sucking down beers while watching basketball on the tube. It was close to 11pm before we got back to Ottumwa, where we retired to the confines of the Sloth Club for a few beers and some conversation. Afterwards we finished the evening over burgers across the street at the Tom-Tom Tap.

Vicki had a meeting lined up at the Capitol the next morning so I exploited her for the ride home instead of waiting around for the afternoon bus.