Train of Thought

I missed this bright green. It almost makes you forget that California is in a drought. The first time I saw them they were this apocalyptical brown ashy color. There, they seem alive even through this dirty window, which most likely hasn't had a good wash in the last couple of years. My attention drifts as a man walks by me with what looks like a panini. At that precise moment, my stomach decides to make a loud sound to remind me that it is past noon and I haven't eaten anything today besides the banana I had for breakfast. A combination of smells invades the entire car as more and more people walk past me from the Café Car back to their seat with food in their hands. Luckily for me, the little voice announces our near stop, which stops my obsession over food. "If your final destination is Martinez, please come down to the lower level for exiting. Next stop, Martinez."

I soon realize that the greenery has gone missing and has been replaced with water. Everything suddenly starts shaking as we get on the bridge. Even though it is a beautiful day, the water is this brown color that reminds me of my caramel macchiato, which makes it impossible for me to see any aquatic action. The scenery changes as the wheels touch ground and my eyes immediately spot Shell's oil refinery. I can distinctly see the chemical fumes vanishing away in the vibrant blue sky. By the time the chemical cloud disappears from my eyesight, a lady comes wandering the hall. Her polo shirt is the same color as of today's sky, on the top right corner I can see the little Amtrak logo. Her arm reaches out for a ticket with the letters "MAR" above this woman's seat as she warns her to make her descend to the lower level. The Amtrak ticket lady continues her task, removing all of the remaining "MAR" tickets from what are now vacant seats. 

The train comes to a neat stop. I can hear the doors open as I read a sign that says "Martinez". This station needs some cleaning up and renovation. The building looks like it could be part of a western movie décor made out of Papier Mache. People are climbing on and off the train when I notice that the woman seating right across from me is still there. She seems stressed out. Her eyes are focused on her laptop's screen as she types away. I can hear her fingers touch the keyboard's letters over the Julia Michaels' song I have in my ears. Everything seems to be in rhythm, my music, her typing, and the ringing sound coming from the downstairs doors, warning everyone that we were close to departure.  

 The doors finally shut close and the train starts moving at a slow pace. The train station is long gone when someone announces "Next stop, Richmond in about 20 minutes. This will be your first BART connection. Next stop, Richmond". At that exact moment, the woman looks away from her screen with desolation in her eyes as she abruptly closes her laptop and shoves it into her bag. She gets up, barely hitting her head against the overhead compartment and runs towards the stairs.

I chose the right seat; the sun is shining through the dirty window straight on my pale face. It is getting too hot, so I decide to switch seats. Even though I am now in the shade, away from the boiling sun, I prefer my old seat. This one has less legroom and is missing an armrest. However, on this side, the window is much cleaner, and I can see outside elements passing by.

 The woman that rushed in the stairway after missing her stop comes back up and slouches down on her old seat. However, this time she just stares at the empty seats and the dirty window next to her. She seems tired and annoyed by the situation. As our eyes meet, I smile to give her some compassion.

Zigzagging along the bay is always my favorite part of this trip, especially on a day like this one. Looking through the window, a couple and a little boy are waiving at the train while a man with his dog is jogging along the tracks. Soon enough we arrive at the Richmond station where the much different scenery includes litter and homeless camps. I try not to stare too long at the urban environment. I then notice that the woman is gone and that, surprisingly, the train has barely any passengers left on it which is uncommon at this time of day. 

The train continues its route and I can now see the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco's skyline. My eyes start blinking of exhaustion when the Amtrak lady comes to pick up my ticket and warns me that the next stop is mine. As I fear of getting lost in my train of thought and missing my station, I pick up my bag and walk towards the stairway.