Riding the Rails

D1 was driving home from UF, a long trip she didn't look forward to since her crash last October, and she also wanted to visit Ancient Grandma. Eureka! I hit upon an idea: I'd take TriRail to West Palm, let her pick me up at the station so I'd break up her drive, and then we'd go visit Grandma.

I handled the logistics like an engineer! D1 left Gainesville around noon, and I figured she'd make it to West Palm in a tad over 4 hours, given the Turnpike construction that's been going on near Orlando since her freshman year. I took the 2:20 out of the Miami Airport station, due to arrive at West Palm around 4:10. We both made ot to the historic train station within 15 minutes! I felt like the Seinfeld cast who appreciate a succesful "pick" at the airport!

Tri Rail is most pleasant. The trains are clean, and usually on time. You get to see parts of the 3 county area you'd typically miss, from the factories and depots of North Dade and North Broward, to the "wrong side of the tracks" yet struggling to look upscale neighborhoods of Boca Raton.

The folks in my car were an interesting mix. There were a few airline crew members who got off at the Lauderdale airport station, clearly transferring from MIA jobs to FLL ones. There was a 60 something fellow in shorts and sandals talking on his cell phone the whole trip in a comically thick Southern accent, who was a yacht mechanic just finished a job on the Miami River, and now headed to Palm Beach where he "heard Tiger Woods was headed" to go out on HIS yacht.

One middle aged woman, with spiked hair and goth clothes, got on at Delray, which I learned recently was the Florida capital for drug rehab. Poor thing was clearly schizophrenic --every so often she'd laugh out loud to a joke she must have heard in her head, and then asked everyone and no one on the train whether the next stop was Lake Worth. Several people told her it was, and when seconds later the conductor announced "Lake Worth --next stop" she held her hand to her mouth like an embarrased grade schooler.

I was starving, and a kid behind me ate a peanut butter sandwich, which smelled very tempting. I thought about grabbing it from him as I exited the train, but decided to leave him be...

I exited at the old West Palm Seaboard station, which has been beautifully refurbished. I fantasized that I was Henry Flagler, back from Key West and headed over to the Breakers for a ball in my honor.

I received a SUPERIOR greeting --D1 in her Mom's green Volvo suv!

We stopped at Three Gs to pick up some sandwiches. I was the only one in the restaurant under 75, except for the staff. It's true: old people live in Broward, and their PARENTS live in Palm Beach County!

D1 and I greeted a happy Ancient Grandma, and we talked about D1's boyfriend. Grandma seemed pretty with it, until she started confusing my old Labrador Midnight with one of her grandsons.

D1 had a tape measure, per Wifey's request, and measured Grandma for some new clothes. She's gone from a size 12 to about a 6, it seems. She protested that her clothes are FINE, but if we bought her some for her BIRTHDAY, it would be ok.

I went through her paper work, got her mail, took out her trash, and D1 and I left for home. When we got into the car, we looked at each other and said, simultaneouslyl "She's SOOOOOO Old!"

There was a warm homecoming, with D1 and D2, and her mom, and her Spaniel, who hopped around happily.

It's nice to have, as the NY Islanders announcers said after the penalty was over, "the team back at full strength."