Me "Do you know what I am doing?"
Me "I am trying to read my imaginary book that you threw off the train"
I also hand her bags of fruit (or anything) and ask her not to throw this bag off the train.
Anyway I think I am over this now.6
1. He squinted to read the ticket which should have been a warning sign.
2. See other journal entry about Prague and then post a comment.
3. I could not think of any proper word to describe this movement except it is between a hurdle and a controlled fall.
4. I couldn't see and am going off of hearsay.
5. Called Kiln People but I don't remember the author since Christy threw my book off the train.
6. I have since made a stupid and expensive travel mistake and am more likely to forgive.
Something happened to our bananas and my book. Something bad. We were leaving Krackow and took a late taxi to the train station. Everything was OK at this point. Then we went to a platform and told Collette "no" 18 times and to "stay away from that" and "come here, come here right now' 12 times. What we thought was our overnight train pulsed into the station and squeeked to a top. We immediately started pushing and hauling our baggage caravan toward the sleeper cars. As the train moved into the station I noticed that the car number did not match any of the numbers on that train. In spite of this Christy showed our tickets to the conductor1 and he told us to get on board. With great grunting and sweating we boarded, found our numbered cots, and started to prepare for the overnight voyage. Not long afterward two other gentlemen approached saying they had the same bunks. The same conductor took our ticket away and then promptly came back and told us we were on the wrong train and that this train was going back to Prague.2 Bad news. Since our "real train" had not left the station I gathered almost ALL of our luggage and started banging and grunting my way down the narrow passage way to get off the train while spewing in loud, slow English apologies to everybody who glanced our direction. Christy was in front of me with Collette and only ONE bag (besides the banana bag). As Christy was doing that very awkward movement that you do when you get off the last high step of the train to the platform,3 the bag tore and then she says4 that as the contents fell the conductor tried to grab them and then they fell onto the tracks. I looked down with utter horror to see our bag of bananas and the book I had been reading for the past two weeks resting on the urine soaked tracks between the platform and the train. We asked the conductor if we could go down and get them and he shook his head and told us no. The book5 was not too good, sci-fi with bad characters but it was sort of a mystery and I was nearing the end. Now it will remain a mystery and I can only assume the good clay clone defeated the mad one who was trying to become God by combining memories. Sometimes when reading a book it becomes very personal to you. Collette kept asking us with round eyes,"Dada what happened to the bananas?" I would respond, "Mama threw your bananas off the train". Since then I have been saying such cute and endearing things like,