Solitaire

[Tuesday, Feb 21, later in the day]


This is mad crazy good.  So far I have the best of both worlds.  I can retreat into the cacoon of my single roomette, as they call my room in Amtrak speak, or I can head back three cars into the real world of the observation car, where dem coach folk hang out.  My part of the train is full of old white people, who are booooring. So after my complimentary champgane, which I'm sure they give me as a primer, so I will head to the cafe car and buy more alchol, which totaly works by the way. Once in the observation car, I feel home again.  With my Corona and lime, I sit down to draw and peek at the beautiful Winconsin country side.  That's not sarcasm by the way, this state is beautiful.  The gentelemen behind me is playing solitaire and singing, loudly.  And it's not that he's playing cards by himself that's a little odd, but he is playing the deck with extreme vigor, cards are slamming down on the table as he makes up words to slow songs.  The white people around me are looking over nervously and tossing disapproving glances like hand grenades.  I have a big smile on my face. This is delightful.