7:35 pM
Retreated to my room. A pair of Willie Nelson look-a-likes struck up a
conversation. Good for them. But I am not into it. Passing through
Yorba Linda. Now it is dark. The first one, straw cowboy hat and
enormous silver belt buckle (more than half as wide as his waist) put
a CD from a CD wallet into a CD player, took off his hat, put on
headphones, put his hat back, threw away his empty Bud, and burped as
he walked past me on his way back to sit down. Likes riding the train,
apparently. He and the other Willie think Amtrak employees are mean.
No. 1, by way of explaining what he was listening too (country),
overed the he didn't download music, didn't even have computer,
quipped that he five thousand friends on Facebook. Oh well. Good for
him.
7:22 PM
In the lounge car to be frank pretty grossed by burping drunk men in
front of me and behind.
And now that I am set to write something, can't think of anything.
7:30 PM. Something will come to me. The burping again. I am out of
here.
--
David
www.schons.net
