Several weeks after I had been with the owl girl it was the end of semester, and I was going back to my home town in the north of the state. Previously I had done the fourteen hour trip in the second class coaches on the train (sitting up or sleeping on the luggage racks), but this time I had booked a sleeper. As it was the winter break, the nights were long, and for most of the trip it would be dark. The sleeper would be a civilised way to travel.
So I made my way to the station, a grand stone building surrounded by parks and tall buildings. I had a good meal in the station restaurant, surprisingly good food and a couple of glasses of wine, and then made my way to the supermarket in the station concourse to buy some supplies for the night. I paid for the bag of goods, and then, on the way out, I reached for a newspaper.
As I did so I felt a strange lurch, as if the concourse had turned inside out, and me with it. A strange twist in the air and then it was all different. It was the same concourse, but the shops had shifted, the sounds of the place were muted and strange, even the quality of the light had changed. And then, like an old movie film, the world started up once again and the sounds returned to their normal level, and the light rippled and flickered and then settled. The paper was still in my hand, but the paper felt rougher, the ink dirty on my fingers.
This was very very strange but at the same time, not so. Somehow I felt I had been here before, at some time. But I also felt a strange nervousness that had not been there before, as if someone was watching me. I had to get somewhere away from eyes as soon as I could. The sleeper compartment would be ideal, then. So I made my way to the country line platforms, and was astonished to find that the trains were all headed up by huge steam engines instead of the thudding diesels I was used to. These things were like massive creatures, hissing and sighing to themselves. What the fuck was going on here?
But I needed to get on board the train as soon as possible so I made my way down to the sleeper carriages at the front of the train, coupled behind the loco and its massive tender. As I came up to the carriage door, a guard stepped onto the platform, dressed in an old style uniform, like something from an old movie, red trousers with a black satin thread down the seam, a black waistcoat and a dorky red pillbox hat on his head, with a rakish tilt.
"Welcome aboard sir, I trust you will be comfortable with us this evening. The train leaves..." and he flicked his cuff back from his wristwatch with a flourish, "in twenty minutes. The attendant will be along later to turn down your bed."
This all felt like some strange film set, and I was part of the cast. For I realised that I too was wearing what to me seemed like a costume, but judging by my fellow passengers, the latest fashion. For half a century ago.... But my nervousness was still upon me, and I needed to get hidden away in my compartment. The guard led me down the corridor and opened up a door. Inside, there was a long plush seat, high backed and running the whole length of the compartment. Opposite was a small table and a door, through which I could see a washbasin and another door, which I assumed was a toilet. Opposite the corridor door was the carriage window with a pull down blind.
I placed my bag of supplies on the seat - where the fuck did that paper bag come from? I thought I had a plastic bag from the supermarket.... I tossed the newspaper next to the bag and went through to the wash cubicle to rinse the ink from my fingers. A sign above the toilet warned "Do not flush while train is stopped at station." Now that made sense! After drying my hands, I slid up one of the windows and sat watching the activity on the next platform. The platforms were busy with passengers hurrying to board trains, porters with little wheeled trolleys moving back and forth, loading parcels and suitcases into carriage doors.
Up above, perching along the steel beams arching over the roof of the station, were hundreds of pigeons, grey and black, tawny brown, top knots bobbing; one or two pale albino white birds noticeable amongst them.
"All aboard, this train leaves in five minutes. If you are not travelling, please leave the train now." Down at the rear of the train I could see the red flag held by the guard. With a last set of running feet a late arrival jumped on board, and the carriage doors were all slammed shut with a loud bang. At the end of the train I saw the red flag dip down and a green flag raised high. The guard's whistle shrilled, and was answered by the loud blast from the loco up front, and with a massive huff and sigh, the train slowly started moving.
Startled by the noise, a flock of pigeons clattered into the air and flew alongside the window as the train accelerated past the platform, breaking away up into the sky as the train left the end of the station and click clacked onto the long lines of track. I settled back into the seat, glad finally to be moving away from the city. Soon the regular noise of the train and the roll of the carriage on the tracks lulled me into a light doze, broken by the occasional whistle as the train neared a crossing.
Knock knock. "Night attendant sir, to make up the bed." A young, high pitched voice from the attendant in the corridor. Bleary eyed, I opened the door, and a young woman entered the apartment. Like her conductor work colleague, she sported a red pill box hat covering blonde curls, a red jacket with brocade work down the front, three black buttons. The jacket was nipped in tight at the waist and flared delightfully over her hips. Covering her ass was a knee length skirt, also red, clinging tight. Her calves were clad in black stockings, low heeled shoes. She stood about five four, big blue eyes smiling up at me.
"I've come to make up the bed sir, is that alright?" Fuck yes, that was alright - she was gorgeous. "If you could just stand over there, sir, I'll just set the bed up for you."
