The only thing I can imagine that would be more disgusting than a gas station bathroom is an port-a-potty at a fair… about three levels of germ hell past that would be the bathroom on public transportation.
As I type this I am doing the potty dance in my chair and I am faced with the very frightening reality that there is an hour left of my trip and I might actually experience spontaneously combustion before the trip is over. I don’t even know where the bathroom is on, but I know I won’t be finding it. I am pretty sure that nightmare I had about being attacked by flesh eating germs that were large enough to see was set in the bathroom on the train, I am pretty sure.
There is a man hanging out of the door of the train as we are traveling. It is like the human version of a dog that sticks his head out of the window. Maybe he was a hobo in his last life and used to jump trains with Huck Finn.
There is a quiet man at my table today, but the loud people in the next car are more than making up for it. I feel like these people have way more energy than I have at the end of the day… well, ok, at any point in the day.
Other than that, the train ride is relatively uneventful today. More tomorrow.