view inside the traincar

I’ve been in North Dakota for more hours than I’d care to admit. And you thought Michigan was flat. All I can see for MILES is nothing. At least in Michigan there are trees…..

We were chased out of the twin cities last night by a tornado and were apparently delayed in the middle of the night by three freight trains. This morning we woke up a hair past Fargo waiting to be given clearance to pass a grain elevator fire and needless to say we are running behind. I wish I had had my camera when we passed the fire. I’ve never seen anything like it. The whole elevator collapsed and flaming grains were lapping at the rails.

A guy my age named Bud got on overnight in a town in Minnesota. He works in Libby MT (one stop after Whitefish) and was assigned to the seat next to me this afternoon. Bud is the essence of Middle America. He has sparkly blue eyes, closely trimmed blonde hair- he’s muscular, charming, and boisterous. He’s proud of his roots, and describes his upbringing as the real life Varsity Blues. He was the High School quarterback, prom king, and heart throb and comes from a town that people rarely ever leave. He left, of course, to lay asphalt in Libby and to hunt. In Montana his gun license literally gets him more bang for its buck and more bucks for his bang. He likes to play cards, listen to music, and thumb through his high school yearbook (he doesn’t seem to realize that time goes forward).

Another woman, Janet, sits behind us. She wears a cropped green down coat with a black and white stripped shirt underneath and a red bandana around her collar. She’s from the East Coast and the speed of her speech proves it. She’s a mover and a shaker and decided only a week ago to cross the country on the empire builder. She has been traveling for days and is getting off in Whitefish where she’ll stay at a Mission and visit with friends. Janet has taught English as a second language in Italy and China, and has spent many years developing special ed. programs in various public school systems. Now retired, she spends her days talking to new and interesting people and shared a chicken sandwich with me as our train edged into Montana.

Also in the lounge car are Kyle and her boyfriend Eduardo who Kyle met during her time with the Peace Corps in Honduras. She has long gray curly hair and eyes to match, a green hoodie and well worn jeans that taper down to her sandals. She says of the Peace Corps that a program alone cannot simply make a difference. She says that you must choose to be an active participant.

Behind her is a young man in a tidy uniform with a backwards American flag patch. Over his camouflaged right leg is a brace that runs from his ankle to his hip. I watch his eyes move back and forth with the passing scenery.

At the table across from him is a young Amish family who place an order with a tall black gentleman whose ipod earbuds rest noisily on his shoulders.

I am finding as the night falls on the eastern flatlands of Montana that the views outside of the lounge car are not half as interesting as the views of the country inside of it.

Love,
Zoe