Emeryville to Denver (Day Two)

 I slept okay. Not amazing, but okay. Amtrak’s long distance coach seating is comparable to first class in an airliner. Almost lie flat, but not quite. My eye mask, earplugs, and beers helped a lot.

For someone, this is somewhere

I woke up and made my way to the cafe car. Overnight we had traversed through Salt Lake City, our only overnight stop and just about pulled in to Helper Utah. The cafe car provided me with hot water for the tea I carried with me. There’s a benefit to being a tea drinker over a coffee drinker. A coffee drinker has to suffer through whatever is around. I get to bring Ceylon with me and beg for hot water. I guess we both suffer.

The mighty Colorado

The train chugs on. I talk to a gentleman who boarded overnight in Salt Lake who I clocked as a cyclist by his hat. For those who know it’s a dead giveaway. He’s riding the train to Chicago with his bike and then touring all the way to Mexico. Now that’s an adventure. My morning was spent sorting through yesterday’s photos. I had gotten a little overzealous with burst mode and took a lot of terrible landscapes. Only the best makes it to my blog for you dear reader. 

Not a lot of action here

Partway through the day I got some difficult news. I learned that someone I used to be close friends with had died the previous day, my birthday. We did not see eye to eye and had a pretty brutal friend break up but it still stings. He was a decent human being. 

We mosey through the Rockies and the once flat scenery begins to wrinkle and crease. The plains give in to nature and become tall peaks and deep valleys. The Colorado river guides us as we wind our way through the canyon on our way to Denver. The scenery is gorgeous, clear water, red rocks, and the occasional mooning courtesy of the rafters in the river below.

hideous.

We pulled in to Denver at about six pm and after roughly a zillion years of shunting, the doors opened at the station. After over thirty hours on board I was free to roam. My friend Ricky moved from Long Beach to Colorado about a year ago. He has settled well. I took the A line from Union station to his apartment, one stop north. These trains look familiar and I realize that Denver is using the exact same rolling stock for regional rail that SEPTA does. The cars are distinctive, nostalgic, and shiny. Anyone who has lived in Philly can recognize the Silverliners, the workhorse of commuters there for decades. 

Ricky came to the station to greet me and escort me in. I am elated. I haven’t seen someone I know since I hopped onboard in Emeryville and it feels amazing to catch up with someone without introducing myself first. We drop my bags at his apartment and catch up over a beer. My mind is reeling with the drink options. I’ve been rather limited lately and I don’t know how to process all the choices.

What would we have without farmers?

We finish our beers and his girlfriend Jenna joins us. She is the reason he moved to this city and she is lovely. I can’t think of a better reason for someone to be stolen from me. Dinner is a salad (not shared) and a pitcher of margarita (shared). This is the first time I’ve had fresh veggies since I finished my day old sandwich yesterday and I’m giddy with excitement. I always know that I’ve been mistreating my body when I start to crave salad and the food on the train has not been fantastic. Each crunch feels like it is giving me life.

The queen of the house (left) and Jenna

For desert, we go to shoot pool. Pool has become my unemployment hobby and my steady shooting regimen has improved my game drastically. I haven’t played since I left Santa Barbara last week and it feels good to get behind the table again. Jenna reminds me that I am at altitude and that the drinks I’ve been enjoying may have a bit more impact than I’m accustomed to. She is right. We finish our game and make our way back to Ricky’s apartment where I am spending the night. My first hot shower in some time and first night in a bed in even longer. It feels luxurious and I fall asleep like a dead rock.

Concerned parents