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I’m approaching the END OF THE second leg of my three-train trip from Old Orchard Beach, Maine, to Lancaster, PA. The Acela is threading its way through the congested areas outside NYC. I would describe the scene, but frankly I hardly ever look out the window when I’m riding the rails. I am listening to Leo Laporte’s This Week in Tech #111, featuring my favorite geek heroine Veronica Belmont in her first official appearance as a Mahalo employee, preparing for the debut next month of The Mahalo Show, a daily how-to tech podcast which will, I’m sure, be a huge hit.
I’ve been working on my presentation tomorrow at the National Association of Independent Artists, practicing Hercules Randall’s flying skills in Second Life, Twittering, uploading photos, checking e-mail, and enjoying a First Class breakfast of French Toast and strawberries. It’s been bliss.
Whenever I prepare for a train ride, I imagine that I might actually sit and look out the window. But it never happens. I take in the motion outside the windows as background for my electronic travel. It’s different on a train, even when I’m doing exactly the same things as I do on my MacBook Pro in a cottage or a condo. The fact that my body is hurtling through space changes the experience of moving around the Internet. I don’t know why. I imagine that when I first fell in love with trains, riding the Santa Fe Chief from Pampa, Texas, to Chicago en route to Boston, I was reading kids’ books or playing a puzzle game or doing something. My nickname as a boy was Lennie Energy. The active little guy is alive and well, about to turn 57 the day after tomorrow (thus the treat to myself of upgrading to First Class today.)
All Aboard!
UPDATE: The ride through Pennsylvania countryside reversed my focus of attention. The late afternoon light turned the green leaves luminous, as if the light was coming from inside. Lancaster’s train station had an historic feel, with a long hallway and tall windows taking me over the tracks to the terminal. I’m exhausted, settling into the Eden Resort Inn. Yahoo Maps says I could have made it here four hours earlier by car, but what would have been the fun of that?
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