Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The Polar Express takes a Hutter-right

 Thou art making a grave mistake.

If you live in Winnipeg, at some point someone will encourage you to take a train to B.C.

It's good advice. Take it.

In addition to the great scenery, you get to speak, eat, and sleep with a variety of people with whom you'd never otherwise get the chance.

For instance: I got to sit next to an Amish family from Pennsylvania, who spoke virtually no English. Though I couldn't tell what they were saying, the guy in charge was an elderly, stern grandfather-type, think: the grandfather in Witness.

Around hour 30, I stopped caring about the scenery and started contemplating using my pillow to smother everyone around me for emitting sounds, odors, and other unspeakable crimes against my senses.

Just then, a little girl came walking down the aisle by herself, just like Betty Lou Who. She saw the grandfather, her eyes widened, and she gasped. 


Everyone in the car cracked up. Even Santa himself was powerless to resist a smile.

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