A Train Ride in the Sky

a Restaurant

If you decide to walk into Marcello’s Bistro hidden in the white mountains during any time, the first thing that will come to you is the sound. China plates and glasses clinking, distressed cooks shouting, laughter from the kitchen, and the friendly conversation of the people all around. You might be captured by the walls, with vintage and colorful Italian artwork categorizing the different wines and spirits, the comforting fireplace, copper tables, brown wooden chairs, and the waiters and waitresses supporting black cotton uniforms. The smell from the delicious food and sauces being created in the kitchen might increase your appetite. But in the many years I have been here, my favorite part is the lights. Lights hanging above every table, the bar, and the green and red chandelier from the dining room bring life to this place. I used to only like things for their look, but the chandelier and lights have become my favorite part for something more, and it all began some time ago.

that Night

It was a slow night with not that many people walking in, unusual for a Wednesday. Maybe it was the festival over by the ski mountains that drew away our business, but I have no idea. The light from up above fixated down on the shiny orange copper top of the bar producing a reflection, while the rest of the lighting in the bistro filled the air with an orange light bringing a sense of warmth. In this reflection was the middle aged man, Gilson Dall, sporting a blue Polo shirt with tan khaki shorts, and a blinding light produced from his gleaming bald head. This man was our most beloved clientele. He stood stiff, rugged, but ready to socialize. His Love for others and this town made him beloved by all. In the two hours he had spent at the bar, he only ordered two things. One: a glass of chianti that produced a strong smell. Two: a New York sirloin strip cooked medium rare, with roasted potatoes and cheese on the side. Having known Gilson for some time, I could tell something wasn’t quite right with him. Usually he was a man who often joked around and was always laughing, but tonight he wasn’t. His eyes were fixated on the bar looking directly down, not on anything else, not even the lights. When I became a bartender, my boss told me something imperative in my job: helping others with their challenges and making others feel better.

“Why serve enraged and distraught customers while we could serve and comfort cheerful people? If you have someone unhappy, then make them better. It’s worth more than a lousy tip” said my boss one night.

So my next words sparked what would become quite an adventure.

“I can tell when something is wrong with people. Maybe it’s hereditary, maybe it’s magic, or something else, but this is one of those situations. What’s bugging you?”

These words startled Gilson who immediately shook up, and gave me this expression of confusion from his pensive state.

“Oh, nothing is the problem Dan…thanks for asking,’’ he retorted in his usual gruffled voice. “Except…well….” and a short silence. “ I was just thinking about something else. Dan, when you think of this town, what is the first thing that comes to your mind”?

I pondered for a moment, then I looked at the painting in the corner of the bar. Inside the rusted gold frame was a detailed picture of our town’s train station, the crowning feature of our town. It was famous throughout the country, so surely it was this that he meant.

“Probably the train station.”

“Exactly! Everyday I hear about people discussing their marvelous experience from taking a train ride, but I don’t get it. It’s the same landscape over and over again, mountains and lakes, mountains and lakes, you get the picture. The tracks are completely inseparable from the ground, only something, well …never mind”.

“What are you getting at? It’s almost closing time, and you must be going somewhere”.

“Dan, there is always somewhere to go, but it never has to be the same place. I am always looking for an adventure and something new. That’s the whole point of life, going to wonderful new places that you never knew existed before, going to places that might take a new identity. I have never been a fan of train rides, but there is a train tonight that is going to New York. A new line just finished construction, and for the first time our station’s route will go through the city. Look Dan, you are new here..have you ever been on a train?”

“Well, no…only automobiles before, never a train”.

“Although it is the same landscape, now you can go somewhere and see the country and the city. When you’re tired of the same rustic landscapes, then the bright city lights will draw you in. When work is over, if you can, go to the station and get a ticket. I went yesterday, and trust me, you have to go. You’ll miss out on something great if you don’t buy the ticket”.

a Departure

I don’t know what it was, but later that night I found myself at the station. I purchased my ticket from the small, ornate Victorian styled station that was painted a rustic yellow. Gilson seemed awfully strange that night, he seemed to be thinking an awful lot. But anyway, my attention drifted back towards the station. The crowning feature of this station was the clock on the outside that has been ticking since 1891. Every day, many different trains and locomotives ran through on the tracks in the back loading area. I sat on an archaic bench with gold armrests. Old-timey country music played from the speakers, and these rustic sounds echoed in the cavernous atmosphere. The only thing that illuminated the clear sky were the lampposts and the lantern from the station master standing at the edge of the boarding dock. From a distance this man seemed stiff and rigid, and could be mistaken as a lampost, but the reflection from his square glasses confirmed that this was a person.

What was I doing? I surely didn’t know Gilson entirely, but there was something in him that I could trust in this voice. Besides, I had never ridden on a train before, and everyone was talking about the train rides. Were they really as special as many said they were? What if Gilson was right, what if these trips were boring? My father told me when I was little, “never do something that you are not interested in, only do things that you believe in”. Once again, it was something unexplainable that made Gilson veritable. You can sometimes just look at a person and trust them immediately, not by how they look, but by how they act and sound.

A small but bright light emerged from the distance, and soon this source of illumination grew in diameter. The engine soon came into form, and it was the famous 580 engine. Painted yellow and green, and with large handrails, the chugging sound of the glorious machine stood in front of me. It was hard to make out the color of the train due to the darkness, but the few powerful lights of the station illuminated the train on only one side.

“Attention passengers, train 580 will be boardingin a few minutes, please stand by” the station master gruffled.

Something magnified me at that moment, not the engine but all of the cars and coaches. All you could see were the bright, yellow rectangles windows, each progressively decreasing in size the further away. It seemed as if this train would go on forever as there was no end in sight. In the background, the sky was covered by a foggy mist, however I could still make out the base of the towering mountains. Then looking back at the train, I could see the warmness of the inside of the cars by the fog in the windows, and I also saw two men with vests rushing back and forth.

Suddenly, a very high pitched copper bell struck over and over again, and it seemed as if two hollow metal sticks were banged against each other. I did not know what this meant, and I did not know what to do. But my confusion was short lived by the station master’s cry: “ALLLL ABBBOOOOOARRRRDDD!”

Right then, a group of about ten or so people hurried out of the station, presented their green tickets, and boarded inside the back cars. I then pulled out my ticket from my coat pocket, and once again saw the destination of New York printed right there. I was still a little anxious, but based on what Gilson and everyone said, I followed their truthful words. Looking down at my ticket, I handed it after a hesitation to the station master, and stepped into the car. Stangely, what happens next is something only I experienced, and all except two people I have ever talked to or served have been in a situation like mine.

the Takeoff

The air was warm, and the inside lights of the train brought a sense of warmth on the inside. The car that I was in had very few people; all you could see of them were the back of their heads and their brown leather hats. I sat quietly in my seat and looked out the foggy window. The air was still foggy, and the only images I could make out were the lights from the old wooden platform. The stationmaster stood there, looking once again like a rigid lamp post, but he gave me this strange stare. Initially it was just a grave, expressionless face, but he gave a slight smirk. Odd for what seemed like a dour man.

Soon the bell sounded again, and I could hear the mechanics of the train operate once again, disturbing the quiet air. A door opened in the car, and a small statured man entered. He had straight grey hair, shiny glasses, but most of all you could observe the whiteness from his teeth from his unavoidable smile. This rosy cheeked man made me smile, and he then gently approached my seat. Right on his green vest a small metal name tag read “JOSEF — C. CONDUCTOR”.

“HEELLLOOO, HEELLLLLLOOOO!” he joyfully said with a slight Italian accent. Before I continue I need to note that this was the most positive and joyful person I have met, and every word he spoke was filled with a lightful sense of happiness. “I am Josef, and I will be serving you tonight. I will need to ask for your ticket, sir”. After pulling out my ticket from my pocket, Josef then punched three holes in the paper, and then smiled as he handed me my ticket. “I don’t often say this to people, but I enjoy this shift the most out of my day. When you pass through the town and mountains,..you get reminded of what the countryside looks like, how calm everything is, and then you see the bustling landscape of the city and all it’s bright energy. Well anyway, please ENJOY, ENJOY your trip, sir!”

I responded back with a quiet smile, and he then went back through the door. But on his way he looked out the window for a second, then exited. Sitting in my leather chair, the landscape began moving past my periphery, and it was at this moment I realised we were moving. It was hard to make out what I could see, only a bunch of black trees and a mixed black and blue musty sky. Staying this way for several minutes, I lost interest and observed the action in the rest of the car. Two other passengers were staring out the windows in their seats, one looked at their watch, and a few reading the Mountaineer, the town’s paper. Gears shifting and the mechanics from the engine picked up steadily, and soon Josef entered once again with a smile (safe to say you will never see him without a smile), and a corncob pipe in his mouth. He looked out the window once again, and I turned back in my seat towards the window. The same landscape, except I noticed miniscule bright stars lying all over the sky. More and more appeared as the mustyness cleared, and the inside of the car became brighter.

I began to make out the landscape: there was the pond where Gilson fished! There was the trail that guides up to Mount Worth, and we soon came upon Jackson Cathedral. It was certainly something else to see it in person, you begin to realize how magnificent it is. It makes you want to explore and discover things. At an awkward angle I could make out the great fissures and the rugged texture of the ledge, and I could see the black pine trees lining the cathedral. The best part was how the rock reflected and sparkled in the moonlight, and we were coming closer to the some-what distant cathedral

“MAAAGnificent” Josef whispered to himself in the back, but I heard his remark. It truly was magnificent, and just moving straight forward in the train made this just amazing.

Then the train picked up speed and made more noises. Then I started to notice the top of the trees and could no longer see the ground. Then it seemed as if we were being engulfed by the sky. But then it was then I realized we were derailed and the train was floating.

I had to pinch myself to see if this was true. No, trains couldn’t fly, this was my imagination. Maybe I had fallen asleep. Except, I wasn’t waking up. I looked down and noticed that the train’s wheels were detached from the rails, and the dark rails started to vanish to the size of little ants. The car began dipping as I fell back into my seat, clenching my armrest. After a few minutes and the train smoothed out, I relaxed but was still bewildered by what was going on: we were now at the height of the mountains, and on a train the sky.

a Few Stars

Everyone had their faces glued to the windows, looking down below. Josef was passing through the car with a coffee cart, where he offered me a cup. He seemed strangely happier than usual. Although I declined, I asked with a nervous tremble why the train was flying through the sky.

“Ahh, my friend,” he said in his Italian accent, “this is a very different train ride. It is the only one we have that goes up in the sky. We can only do it during the night, because people might actually see the train. But you see, it also is different at night. How is your ride so far?”

I looked out the window and saw nothing but pitch black, maybe a few small trees and the tips of dark mountains, but nothing extraordinary. Still, I wasn’t sure why this train ride seemed special. What did Gilson and Josef like about it so much? I then put my head back, looked up, and breathed a sigh of disappointment.

“Look, come with me”, Josef responded with a slight grin. “I have something to show you”.

With nothing else to do, I quietly got up, glanced one final time at everyone. People were laughing with each other, drinking coffee, and with bright smiles. Then, we left the bright car into pitch darkness.

the Car

We passed through a few other cars, but then we reached this car I had never seen before. There was this strong smell that seemed like chlorine, but it made me feel strangely comfortable. Two things were in this car: the carpet and the glass. A fuzzy but stiff green carpet with ornate stripes filled the bottom of the floor, but the most remarkable was this glass. You might hear of dome cars, but this was even more remarkable. The glass completely surrounded us, and nearly everything above and outside was visible.

I rushed over to one side and looked down. I saw the little festival from the ski mountains. Chinese lanterns hung in the air, little cabins illuminated with lantern glows, and we saw the joyful people celebrating and dancing. We couldn’t make out every detail from our altitude, but the glow from the lights and the energy down below illuminated the ground, trees, and bases of the mountains. What was the most amazing was that you could hear the band play from all the way up here. Forgetting that the Doobie Brothers were playing, the faint guitar and tambourine brought joy as they played “Listen to the Music”. This song was reminiscent of the bistro, but it also made me think of the mountains. Looking down, many houses and cabins aligning the mountains displayed the true beauty of our town. Everything seemed complete, everything seemed just right down there. Warmth and glow shone the dark pine trees, and this glowing light seemed to grow and illuminate the entire town. There was the train station! Cars were passing through, but this new aerial view made me see how beautiful it is.

“That is why I love this train ride” Josef interrupted. “But you have to look above, that’s the best part”.

Josef’s eyes were transfixed above, and you could observe a glare in his glasses. Even though I didn’t want to let go of the beauty and luminescence shining below, one bright star caught my attention. Then more appeared and sparkled in the moonlight, and soon the dark blue sky was filled with bright stars. I didn’t get it, I just looked above, and soon everything was brighter, but now my eyes were glued to the sky. I gasped in awe looking at the sky, and soon a bright purple gradient illuminated. You can’t describe something beautiful, but you feel strange. You feel as if there is more in life, and you are overcome with emotions. I wanted to cry, but I held it back. This new sense of beauty and life flooded in me.

I looked down from the twinkling stars, and stared at Josef. He removed his glasses, wiped away a tear, and looked at me with a smile that was filled with new emotions.

“Thank you,’’ I said softly.

Josef just nodded again with a smile, and began to hum a happy tune. I looked one final time at the twinkling stars and the sky’s luminescence, and then we left the cabin.

right now — 9:30pm

Right now I am writing just as we are closing up, and I am looking at the lights in the bistro lighting up everything. That night was unexpected, but journeying through the sky made me realize that there is beauty in nature everywhere, and there is light everywhere. As I finish up cleaning, I am going to walk out onto the porch and look at those twinkling stars again. Not only will that look remind me of the beauty of nature, it will also remind me of that train ride through the sky.