The only way to fly

You can drink alcohol whilst traveling. Not to say that I’ve never partaken in an auto (or in a theatre, during a boring lecture, etc), but never as genteely as when I’m mit a ban. In the train, you can wander up to the dining car (usually there are plugs over each table, but since there’re not, the conductor will open up the secret red panel where he’s plugged in his cell phone, and let you knock him from the single two-prong spot); and you can listen to all the music you’ve been neglecting on your computer, and drink your way through breakfast and lunch. Want a coffee with Bailey’s, Kahluah, maybe Dewar’s?

"Yes, dear, please feel free."

The coffee’s complimentary with the liquor, and it’s good coffee, people. Amtrak has good coffee.

Lunch? Have a Corona…want a lime? Maybe some chips.

Indiana flashes by, surpisingly fast…for the only downside of the train is when the Norfolk Southern guys act up and block our way – otherwise, we’re into Chicago a half-hour early, stretched and fed and a little happier than when we got on, off to see what six months can do.

Ah, here’s Gary already. Time for some accidental boob-on-boob action with a girl in a track suit on the way to the bathroom. Hey – the rail runs choppy in Chicagoland, sorry about that.

Why do we ever drive?