Caulk the Wagon and Float! Part 2, Lakeshore Limited

“Everybody! Michael’s a stinky poopy head!”

Welcome to the Lakeshore Limited. “You’ll travel along the south shore of Lake Michigan, the Mohawk River, and the Erie Canal, following a famous Native American Highway. In New York State, you’ll pass through the Finger Lakes region to Albany, capital of the Empire State.” The trip can also be described as 19 hours of lessons learned too late. Lesson number one? When stinky-poopy-head Michael, his sister, and his over-worked mom take seats behind yours, find another seat. Immediately.

Incomprehensibly, the other passengers adore the two young travelers. The man sitting across the aisle from Michael strikes up a conversation, mostly about Angry Birds. Michael teaches him how to play.

“Have you ever rode on a train? Have you ever rode on an airplane?” Michael asks the stranger.

Sitting in front of Angry-Birds-man is a man with a backpack larger than Bif’s. He has ridden this route before, because as we go along one of many lakes he turns behind him and tells the kids that in thirty seconds we’ll be able to see a castle. A very old castle that people haven’t lived in for eighty years because it was all blown up with gunpowder.

But Angry Birds and ancient castles can only entertain for so long.

“But he’s sitting in my seat!”

Despite their mother sternly reprimanding them for acting “like brats,” stinky-poopy-head Michael and his sister will remain settled for only so long. Later in the night, a conductor returns Michael, who’d been running up and down the compartment. He says something like, “He cannot do this,” as he hands him over to his mother. At least they weren’t going all the way to Chicago.

The other lessons learned too late:

  • Not until I was thirsty and headache-y did I discover notice the water dispenser next to the restroom, with an open bag of Dixie cups on a shelf next to it.
  • Not until I’d spent a sleepless night shifting uncomfortably in my seat did I learn the black lever on the side of my seat will cause a leg rest to extend, allowing me the space to stretch out while sleeping
  • Not until my arms were cramped and my back ached from hunching over did I notice that the seat tray could extend forward to allow me to type on my laptop in comfort.

Grandma is probably waiting for me to write about our dining car experience. We sat alone because apparently 5:30 is not a popular dinner time. Bif was especially disappointed that we didn’t have the opportunity to chat with fellow passengers. I didn’t mind so much. Anyway, a woman several tables up had a loud voice, so it was almost like she was sitting next to us. She kept telling the waiter/everyone-in-the-dining-car, that those crab cakes really were the best crab cakes she’d ever had, and she’d eaten some good crab cakes.

I didn’t order the crab cakes because I knew what I wanted as soon as I opened the menu: pesto. Just the day before I’d been subbing and one of the teacher’s had brought in pesto for lunch and was explaining it to a group of students who had come to chat. The students were divided as to whether pesto was delicious or disgusting. Listening to a conversation about pesto made me want some, badly.

And now writing about pesto makes me want some, badly. It’s just so delicious!

Now, pretend that I’m dashing out to Price Chopper right now to buy handfuls of basil. The truth is, I’ve run out of things to say.

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Caulk the Wagon and Float! Part 1, NYC

This is the first of several posts relating to my adventures with Bif traveling the Oregon Trail. If you’re wishing I’d instead planned on writing several posts relating the hilarity of small children–I hear you. I wish so, too. But there was plenty of hilarity along the trail, for us, that is.

And no, NYC was not part of the trail, but we couldn’t just teleport to Missouri, could we? I really wish spell-check would stop telling me “teleport” isn’t a word.

Bif and I had plans for NYC. Big plans. Sure, we only had three hours to spend, but we weren’t going to waste them just sitting around. But we were also hungry, so we decided to waste just a few minutes eating leftover hibachi and General Tso’s chicken with boxes of elderberry juice from IKEA. This plan also had the bonus of lightening our snack bag. The only awkward part was just as we were sitting down a scraggly middle-aged man came by with a story about how he hadn’t eaten all day and did we have any money to spare. We did not, but we were hungry as well, so we only waited until he’d turned around and begun talking to the people across the walk from us before we unzippered our bag, pulled out our lunch and begun eating.

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After lunch we wandered around Bryant Park. It is not nearly as exciting as Central Park, except for the restrooms, which have toilets with revolving sanitary plastic seat covers. Bryant Park is also much smaller, so we were able to see everything it had to offer:

  • A fountain
  • A carousel
  • Numerous flowers
  • Less-numerous statues

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Here is the first statue I photographed. I wouldn’t have photographed him at all, except there was a bird on his head. Which makes you wonder how many other things are only noticed because a bird happens to be sitting on top.

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This is the second statue I photographed. I felt very cool and trendsetter-y because as I stood and photographed it other people came and stopped to look at it and after we’d walked on, another tourist stopped to get her picture taken beside it. Which makes you wonder how many other things are only noticed because someone else is taking a picture of it.

Anyway, I was looking at the statue and asking Bif what was so important about Mr. Bonaficio de Andrada e Silva. One of the men who’d stopped behind me said, as if everyone knew who Mr. Bonaficio de Andrada e Silva was, “A statesman.” But then the man continued, “A scientist. An author…” so I realized he was just making stuff up, and it annoyed me that a stranger would tease me like that. Then I peered closer and saw that the plaque indeed categorized Mr. Bonaficio de Andrada e Silva as all three. So now I knew the stranger had not been making fun of me for not recognizing Mr. Bonaficio de Andrada e Silva–he’d been making fun of me for not being observant. Whatever.

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At first I thought this statue was of a potato, or maybe an Ellis Island immigrant. It is, in fact, Gertrude Stein. She will make a reappearance later in our adventures, but as far as I know, she has no connection to the Oregon Trail.

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The important part of this picture is not William Cullen Bryant, or the poem about him, or even Bif. Please turn your attention to the urn at left. Observe the Georgia-O’Keefe-esque bison skulls it is decorated with. Weird, right? They also make an appearance later in our adventures.

After that our time in New York was fairly straightforward. We walked towards F.A.O. Schwarz, failing to find the Swedish Cpighurch along the way, despite the landmark Brazilian flag. At F.A.O. Schwarz, we failed to find plastic oxen figurines, despite F.A.O. Schwartz being NYC’s largest toy store. This lowered my opinion of F.A.O. Schwarz by a lot, even if they do have a big piano.

Then we needed to rush to Union Station but we were feeling confident so we tried looking for the Swedish Church one more time…

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and found it!

So we arrived at Union Station sweaty, stressed and exhausted, but stocked up on our favorite Swedish treats.

P.S. I wanted to make sure Bif’s opinions were also included in my recreation of our trip, so I asked her some questions.

Me: What’s your opinion of the Bryant Park pigeons?

Bif: Superb. Umm. There was a dark one that had a very nice vertical takeoff. And some others were very nice to look at.

Me: And what’s your opinion of Gertrude Stein?

Bif: The statue was not to scale. Well, it was to scale, but it wasn’t life size. Was it?

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