lines of flight

From Flagstaff, AZ to Chicago, IL took about 30 hours. The Amtrak picked us up just before sunrise and chased a tangerine strip of horizon through a scrubby landscape, easily outpacing the semi trucks and pickups that own the roadway. Again I was shutter-bugging like crazy, this time through the train windows–red rock formations and adobe houses, pastel bridges and indian gift shops.

Time moved slowly inside the carriage as we were subject to other peoples’ conversations and parenting skills (or seeming lack thereof).

It amused me to see conservatively-dressed Amish or Mennonite men eating Cheez Whiz, I would have thought that would be one of the unholy modern things they’d do well to shun. Yet I got a “look” from a bearded man in home-made clothes for coming back to my seat with a Sam Adams beer, LoL.

We passed through most of Kansas in the night and early morning, including Dodge City (darn!), but I’m imagining most of the scenery looks like the first few photos, after the jump.

We’d both been sniffling and sneezing since breathing the dry, cold air in Flagstaff, so it was annoying to see the weather (which had generally been good) get worse the closer we got to Chicago. The train was maybe 40 minutes late pulling into Chicago’s Union Station, which I thought was still pretty amazing, considering the distance we’d come; apparently there are often delays of several hours.

Soon as we got here to Chicago, we cabbed it to the hotel (Days Inn Lincoln Park), chased down a hot, healthy meal (P.S. Bangkok), ordered an in-room movie (The Simpsons) and crashed out.