Merry Christmas, Amtrak asshole
I have to work tomorrow. Because of that slight annoyance, I took the train from Princeton, Ill. to Chicago tonight to make sure I could both spend Christmas with family members and be back in time to get a decent night’s sleep, as if that’s something that usually governs my life. Sleep. Right.
Anyway, on the train, I was reading a book and decided, hey, I’ve got a couple of hours to kill — why not have a beer or two? So I had a beer. And then when that beer was finished, I went back to the drink car and asked for a second. This is where it gets good:
“Sir, what did I just give you?”
Me, taken aback: “Uh, a beer? A Leinenkugel’s?”
“That’s right, sir. More? I am going to warn you now that I will not overserve you, sir.”
“Uh … no. I don’t want you to, I’m OK.”
Awkward silence, weird glances at the other people in the drink car …
“$4.50, sir.”
Merry Christmas to you too, dickhead.
ANYWAY, for real, my Christmas ruled, in an understated, small-family sort of way. Part of me thinks I want a gigantic family with tons of kids running around, but the reality of that situation is never quite as good as the opposite: you, your mom, and your brother sitting around and getting drunk and eating too much food and sleeping. Romantic notions aside, it’s hard to beat that, right?
