(With apologies to Fantasy Island)
We currently await the train to NYC from an anywhere station USA. The station is small, warm, and nice, and has the melancholy feeling of lost youth. If only the walls could talk, the tales this station could tell from the Golden Era of train travel. The era when the rich and famous would arrive and head off to some resort or another, and the hobos would be camping further down the rail.
Now it is just M and D here with our wee backpacks! Back on the road/rails and heading west! Going to strike it rich? Going to find fame and fortune? The big question is…are we the lost youth, the rich and famous, or the hobos?
