I’ve been traveling up and

I’ve been traveling up and down from Philly to New York to Boston a whole lot in the past couple of months. On Monday, of this week, for example, I woke up in Philly, traveled to Boston for the day, and went back to New York for the night. Today, Wednesday, another day trip to Boston. It’s only tiring in a cumulative sense: Amtrak’s Acela service has passed some sort of comfort threshold, and you really don’t notice that you’re on a train. It’s not just the nice cars, either. The track is smooth and shiny, and there’s very little vibration. Together with the tables and the cafe car service, I’m actually much more productive on the train than I am in a cube.

Landmarks along the way:

  • A really nice minor-league ballpark in Bridgeport, Connecticut, smack dab in the middle of a rough-looking town.
  • A lawn entirely full of lawnmowers north of Stamford.
  • The “Boat Valet” in Cos Cob; some sort of thing that plucks yachts out of the water and swings them onto rolling trailers so they can be neatly shrink-wrapped with thick white plastic.
  • The tunnel outside of New Haven, where we go into it so fast your ears pop. It’s like slamming the doors in an old Volkswagen Beetle.
  • Some kind of crazy standalone-brick-wall and giant-acoustic-trumpet affair at a chemical plant outside of Providence that looks, for all the world, like the acoustic weapon Professor Calculus got kidnapped to Syldavia for. (Or was it Borduria?)
  • The fifteen-minute elevated flight above the South Bronx on the way in, spinning above all the chinese restaurants.

    The best part is that I’m earning a prodigious amount of Amtrak Guest Rewards miles. Soon, I’ll have enough to get the SuperDeluxe Family Sleep Suite that takes up the whole back end of Amtrak’s Viewliner. Only problem is: where to go? Who to take?

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