Aboard My Favorite Way to Go Far
THE NEED FOR SPEED is only safe while walking.
---------- Forwarded message ---------
From: Wolf Alexander <congressmanalexander@gmail.com>
Date: Tue, Dec 24, 2024 at 1:16 PM
Subject: Aboard My Favorite Way to Go Far
To: Wolf Alexander <theSpitfireHunter@gmail.com>
From: Wolf Alexander <congressmanalexander@gmail.com>
Date: Tue, Dec 24, 2024 at 1:16 PM
Subject: Aboard My Favorite Way to Go Far
To: Wolf Alexander <theSpitfireHunter@gmail.com>
Train 2166 to Boston!
Happy Festivus. Merry Christmas. That's all. The Jewish one I still can't spell sucks. Why spread out the fun over 8 nights? My parents were nice enough to switch to Christmas, immediately I'm pretty sure. Happy Chinese New Year. I can spell that one. I can't spell the African one. I am not in the mood to spell check. So if I can't remember for sure then I will omit it.
This sumbitchin' train is going very fast. A little too fast for this kind of rail system in my opinion. THIS IS THE LAST TIME I AM TAKING THIS DEATH MACHINE. Assuming I make it, and this will be somewhat funny if I don't, it's the LOCAL train to New York City from now on.
High speed rail is alright, but I would prefer a more well engineered system for GOING THIS GODDAMN FAST. We just hit a major rail bump.
Two hours. Well cheers to surviving!
*****
A few minutes later...
Since I am typing we haven't hit a bad spot of rail and gone careening off into something heavy hard and well built enough to smash through this tin can of a railcar. We must be going over 100. Figuring it out is possible but again, I don't feel like it.
Ah. We slowed down. Really I should get off and jump on the next one but that's a lot of work for a call it 1 in 100,000 chance of death. However I still don't like those odds. At 35 or 40mph like the Cardinal or Crescent it's almost impossible to die. You'd have to get caught in your seat and drowned or something. Call it 1 in a billion. That I can handle. 'Cause I ain't getting trapped. It's Alex first, girls second. Boys never. Assuming the "girl" I am talking about isn't mine. Then it's a different story.
Where are we? Somewhere north of Washington...
Show and tell. I miss that. That's what open-mics are for me. The host has no idea what I am going to talk about, and once they give me the mic they can't take it away. Well they can but the police will take more than the promised five minutes to show up. THAT'S MY POLICY STARTING AT MY NEXT GIG.
At the last one, the host told me I wasn't allowed to videotape. As I was about to growl him into terror, I thought better of it. Got on stage with my camera rolling.
This morning he messaged me on TikTok. Here is the conversation:
He wisely didn't reply. I really wanted to tell him where he could stick his rules before the show, but it worked out better that I waited. HE'S BEEN TOLD NOW.
