4 Minute Snore

White tufts fell from the sky. They floated down, were tossed about by the passage of delivery trucks and finally formed clumps that hid in corners between buildings. While I was at first amazed by these meandering wisps, I soon began to wonder what they were. They were far too numerous to have an isolated cause, and my first guess was that they were botanical in origin. But that did not make sense, they were almost hairy. Could they be clods of hair left over by a divine being after a good shave? Perhaps not, they don't make razors quite that big.

Then it hit me. It was down, as in bird down. Those soft white feathers had been pelting me in the face all morning, even managing to make it into my mouth. Ahh, it would appear I had been welcomed to Chicago.

My train ride had so far been uneventful. I awoke on the 24th at 3:45, piled my gear and my dear sweet mum into the car and drove off to Lynchburg. The train arrived, I piled my gear in, kissed and hugged said dear sweet mum goodbye and traveled first north. The towns, trees and passengers flitted by and away. And I sat in a traveler's stupor, letting meaningless thoughts pan through my head as the minute hand whirled along. When I arrived in DC, I lugged my nearly 90 pounds of gear through the terminal and sat down on a quiet, unoccupied bench. I occupied the time between trains by reading a space epic by the name of A Grey Moon Over China. While altogether a rather verbose and poetic book, the plot was a horrible shambles of meaningless characters, uninteresting battles, impossible events, and general lameness. And, unfortunately, is over 500 pages. With a fair amount of grit, I read until the train to Chicago pulled up. And, before I knew it, the book lay finished, and the sun was setting between Ohio wind mills.

After a rather restless sleep, being both too large for the space provided and unused to a shaking bed, I awoke at 430 in the morning and watched the sky turn from black to blue to violet. Farms rushed away, stray light shining from distant houses as quiet men and women prepared for a new day. I waited as my fellow passengers wearly opened their eyes and began to share my rather rural experience. We entered Chicago as the intercom began to buzz with info about bland breakfast items for sale in the snack car. Collecting my things, I stepped off of the train.

With 6 hours to kill and a brutal need to do something with my body aside from sit, I headed into the city with only a few goals, and no real expectations. Almost as soon as I exited the relative calm of the station, I was overcome with the sheer beauty of downtown Chicago. It was rush hour, but the traffic was light. The people were the same from every other major city I have been in, but they were not rude, nor frowned, nor showed disappointment that today of all days they had to be alive. The architecture spoke of style, of age, and of grace mixed with the modern needs of 2010. The parks were plenty, simple, and well used.

At the behest of my parents, I set out to find the Field's Museum of Natural History. After a rather fruitless loop of some of the nearby residential streets (filled with high rises, specialty apartments, and expensive riverside homes) I decided to ask for directions. Oh yes, the museum is in a different part of town altogether, yea, go down this street, this street... Clutching a rather poorly drawn map, I set off on what I believed to be a hopeless goose chase. I passed by quiet shops and by the hectic Chicago Mercantile Exchange. I traveled with businessmen, tourists, delivery men with dolly's loaded with food and drink, a homeless man on a bicycle, and a lady wrapped in a white sheet muttering obscenities at noone in particular. And, it simply did not matter that we were all traveling to different places. I eventually made my way to the park by Lake Michigan. Tourists on Segways zoomed past as I sat on a bench and stared out at the incredible vastness of the great lake. After I felt that I had consumed all I could from my vantage on the bench, I walked off towards the museum trifecta (not just the natural history museum, but also a planeterium and aquarium) that I was told to expect. What I did not expect was the rather hefty cover charge that I was asked to pay at the door. As quickly as I had entered, I turned around, and ambeled back the way I had come, looking for something to eat.

A cafe by the name of Roti caught my eye, advertising their speciality in Mediteranian fare. Not only was I pleasantly surprised, I was life alteringly amazed! When ordering your meal, you first select a particular dish, then a deliciously seasoned meat, then a wide variety of mediteranian items to throw on top of it ranging from black olives, to aioli sauce, to hummus. And, it was rather delicious. Rather, rather delicious!! A shoutout to the guys and gals in DC, they just opened a new franchise downtown! I would recommend checking it out.

Ahem. After a rather (rather, rather) delicious lunch, I then headed back to the station, and dived into my next book, Three Cups of Tea. I strongly recommend this book to anyone who is interested in the immediate benefits education can provide. It is a well written account of Greg Mortenson and his quest to build schools in Pakistan and provide a well rounded education to thousands of children. The train pulled in, and while I was still captivated by the book, I vowed to pay attention to whatever scenery came my way. The scenery available, however, was a repeat of flat farmland and farmhouses. So, I returned to my book and music, and fell into another restless slumber. This time, however, there was another element preventing my rest, Bruce Willis.

Bruce Willis (well, honestly, he looked just like him) appeared to be the average overworked businessman, and he probably was one by day. But by night, he became the 4 Minute Snore! Bruce Willis would sleep soundly, for, on average, 4 minutes. But, when that 4 minutes was up, he would let loose this deep, feral, loud snore that could drag on for as long as 20 seconds. Sleep became instances of waking up to this fearsome sound located only one row behind me.

After it became light, and I decided that I was awake, I looked out into the stark and empty beauty of Colorado. A land of grass, telephone poles and telephone cables. A land of deep tunnels and gorgeous rock formations. I instantly fell in love with how empty and how powerful the land was. We stopped in small outposts where the townsfolk sold jewelry, coloring books, Native American artifacts, and then moved back out into a land where man was a concept few and far between.

We entered New Mexico and I got off the train at Raton, two hours north of Santa Fe. There a bus picked me up and took me to Philmont.