There are a lot of things I’m irrationally afraid of, for example:

• The moon (only if I can see its curvature).
• Getting to a multiway stop at approximately the same time as anyone else.
• Accidentally knocking someone else into an elevator shaft (not actually afraid of falling in myself).

And trust me that’s a very small sampling of the absurd things that make my chest tighten up every now and again. After this weekend I can add to that list “picking the wrong seat on the train.”

In fact, after this weekend’s train trip, let’s just add Amtrak or trains in general to that list. I’ve had mostly decent experiences on the Amtrak between Austin and Fort Worth. I’ve ridden it 5 or so times and while I certainly wouldn’t call it wonderful, it wasn’t dirty or dysfunctional or any of the other dreadful things it gave me this time.

The ride up there, I chalked up to having a hangover. I figure things wouldn’t have been so horrifying if I hadn’t over imbibed the night before, right? It went something like this:

• Lady drinking out of a 2-liter of Dr. Pepper.
• Seat mate clearly had weed in her bag.
  • She asked me a lot of questions about the train even though I began our relationship by explaining to her how little I knew about the train.
  • She asked me to watch her bag (offered to buy me a snack in exchange).
  • I turned down the snack because she’s a (really nice) stranger, but now I have to stay awake so no one steals her bag.
  • Her toenails were painted a weird nineties color and it made me uncomfortable.
• After 2-liter lady got off the train, she was replaced by a lady named Angel who was laying the gospel on thick to anyone who would listen.
  • Angel spent part of the train ride showing her World War II veteran seat mate pictures of Prince William and Duchess Kate on her cell phone.
  • She disappeared for a while and when she returned, she had a scrapbook containing full-color 8×10 pictures of Queen Elizabeth.
  • The weirdest part was that she didn’t even seem that crazy.
• Beyond the people I shared the train with, there were multiple delays that the conductors called “trouble with signals.”
  • I know this meant it was a problem they didn’t feel like explaining to us.
  • It also meant we had to go 20 mph for what seemed like forever, but they claimed was only 6 miles total.
  • We were about an hour late.

Finally make it to Ft. Worth and have a nice weekend with the family and spend a little time meeting up with friends for 10-year high school reunion planning . Old ass lady in the house, I know.

Well, nice weekend minus when my dad tried to make me, my mom, and my sister help him hoist a 12-foot tall structure built to hold like 2,000 lb off the ground and 90 degrees into the air. Like this structure was going to magically slide into the holes he had dug for it. Needless to say, the second I realized that the thing was coming down, I darted the hell out from under it. Everyone else held on until it was ripped out of their hands by the sheer force of its weight and they had the injuries to show for it. Let it down easy, my ass. Of course it looked like I abandoned ship instead of looking like the one who made the logical decision. Story of my life.

Also, on the way to the train station, my dad claimed he didn’t hear me warning him about an upcoming traffic snarl because I didn’t say it “alert-y enough.” Those were his exact words. I don’t claim to be a rational person, see beginning of this post, but I’m just saying, I was born this way.

Anyway, I didn’t think the train trip back could be much weirder. And it wasn’t really weirder, but it was much worse. Well, it was kind of weird. It went like this:

• Awkwardly walk around the car for a couple of minutes before resigning myself to the fact that I’m not getting a window seat and I’m also not getting an area to myself.
• Realize a couple of minutes later when my heretofore unknown seat mate returns that I’ve made a very poor choice indeed.
  • Seat mate smells like he’s been on a 5-day bender and decided the only way to cleanse himself of his sins was to wear his own lower intestine on the outside of his body (that’s the best way I can think of to describe the smell without using all my favorite curse words).
  • I stay in my seat for around 5 minutes because even though this guy is a complete scourge, I’m still scared to hurt his feelings.
  • I finally give in and hightail it to the sightseeing car.
  • I stay there for an hour or so.
  • I eventually decide to go back because the sightseeing car is so loud and it’s hard to read.
  • His smell has dissipated a little.
  • I sit there for maybe 20 or 30 minutes (he snores and rustles about during part of this, unforgivable).
  • We get to a stop that’s a smoke break and he gets up to go have a smoke. I know this is going to reignite his former odor in all its glory, so I remember my snacks this time and head back to the sightseeing car for the rest of the trip.
• The sightseeing car is where all the weirdos seem to go.
  • A man getting yelled at by a conductor that he has been a train conductor for 21 years and he doesn’t like his attitude.
  • An awkward adolescent boy playing solitaire, but also staring at me.
  • A drunk German (?) Dutchy (?) sort of couple who are probably fine but strange if for no other reason than being the only non-Americans in the vicinity.
  • A grizzled conspiracy theorist taking pictures of stuff out the windows of the train and showing it to other people in the car to seek reassurance in a way that I can really only describe as Dale Gribble like.
  • National Parks volunteers giving a sort of terribly boring historical tour of Central Texas (mostly just contributing to the loudness of the car).
    • They do point out the house where Texas Chainsaw Massacre was filmed and not three minutes later we’re sitting on a bridge and the train is completely dead (WTF?). The train eventually is restarted but the conductor comes on to say that we’ll be sitting here on this bridge for about 40 minutes due to residual delays from a derailment that happened the day before.
• I’ve started to equate train conductors with liars in my head.
• Over an hour later, we start to move.
• Make it back to Austin without any other strange happenings other than the girl with the mullet who picked my life-alteringly smelly seat mate up from the train station.

Amtrak, you were so rude.

In Taylor, Texas, around which all the weirdest parts of the train ride seemed to congregate.