Max sleeps as his ChooChoo Chewys go uneaten.
Spring Break '09. Off to St. Augustine with Supermarket. Oddly enough, she did not show up with a pre-planned theme. Apparently, she decided to wing it. After a few minutes of loud arguing by my loving children, she announced that a theme had come upon her. "Tranquility" was to be our new mantra. I wished her lots of luck. Of course, when going to Florida with Supermarket, this means traveling by Auto Train. For those who have never done it, it sounds fun and exotic. Well, I am here to tell you that it is neither. First of all, everything is tiny, like airplane bathroom tiny. Which would probably be totally fine when traveling alone, but with two children and a grandmother in tow, things are tight. It's amazing how much space two smallish kids can take up. When you account for the DVD player, DVD's, DS's & games, reading material, coloring books, obligatory stuffed animals and snacks, their footprint is sizeable. In preparing for this trip my mother stressed that I should "pack light", owing to the smaller size of the trunk of her new convertible and the large amount of stuff she "needed" to bring to the condo. I was none to pleased when I opened the trunk to find several large blue paper fans that were once on display at the fancy paper store across from her office. I not-so-nicely persuaded her that these items could wait and, so, we got a little extra space. Sadly, the boys still ended up sprawled out in awkward positions in the back seat among the computer cases, document boxes and snack bag. Unfortunately, in my effort to lighten the load, one of the items I decided was no longer needed was an extra pair of underpants for the boys. I should have known I was inviting trouble. Half way through the pre-launch snack presentation (styrofoam bowls of off-brand snack mix, cheese cubes and wilty vegetables) I smelled something I hadn't smelled in a very, very long time. I leaned in and, a little puzzled, whispered "Jakey, did you poop in your pants?" A vehement "NO" was his response. So, I knocked it down a category, "Did you toot?" A sheepish "yes" and I was satisfied. Nothing more was needed on my part than to wait it out. Sadly, the odor did not dissipate, so I did what any mother-on-the-go might do, I ignored it and hoped the problem would resolve itself. When my mother marched Jakey to my compartment and announced that he was ready for his shower, I knew the jig was up. So, I took him down the tiny hall, down the tiny stairs and into the tiny shower stall. He was, of course, hysterical when I had to leave to door opened as he stripped, but I was not about to risk an all too likely poo mishap due to our confined quarters, so opened it remained. My first inclination was to throw the offending underwear away, but I knew there was not a snowball's chance in hell that Jake would go one hour with underpants, let alone a whole day and a half, so I had to leave Jakey to his shower, while I went to the tiny bathroom with the tiny sink to wash a fair amount of poo out of his tiny underwear. I knew it was going to be a tricky task, since the sink was so small and all, but what really added to the challenge was that in order to get the water to come out of the faucet you had to continually press down on the levers. And, of course, the hot water was SUPER HOT and the cold water was SUPER COLD, so there was no way to wash out the poo one handed AND get water that didn't burn or freeze my skin. What was worse, is that the only soap available was the mega-cherry smelling hand soap, so even after my best efforts, Jakey's underwear came out smelling like a not particularly well kept McDonald's bathroom.
The other main problem with train travel is that it's almost impossible to sleep. For some reason, the geniuses as Amtrak decided to put the sleeping cars right behind the engine. The engine happens to be where the train whistle is located. So, all night long you get to hear "whooooooo, whooooooo", which is really not nearly as charming as it reads. Especially at three in the morning. Another thing that makes sleeping difficult is that trains move. A lot. So, your room, your bed and everything else around you shakes worse than Amy Winehouse in detox. This trip was particularly vexing because the window in my door was loose, so it rattled all...night....long. And, it didn't just rattle in some sort of rhythmic way that might ultimately become white noise, no, it rattled intermittently in loud, jerky, nerve fraying ways. I tried stuffing things around it, propping my suitcase against it, laying with my leg pressed against it, nothing stopped it, so I laid there pissed and sleepy. Which made problem three even more unpleasant.
The last problem with train travel is that it is inconsistent time wise. One trip you could arrive an hour and a half early, the next trip, you could arrive three hours late. Guess which one this was. When the train finally does stop you have to wait, a very long time, for all the old and infirm to get off first. Then you have to wait, a very long time, for the guys to unhook the car cars. Then you have to wait, a very long time, to get your car off the car car. All told, this trip we were on the train or at the train station for 21 hours. Twenty-one long, hot, sleepless, annoying hours. No, train travel is neither exotic nor fun. Seriously, flying scares the shit out of me usually, but I would rather be antsy for an hour and a half than pissed off, bored and annoyed for 21.
