I'm a lover, not a hobo

Trains are such an aphrodisiac—or maybe it's just that travel, with all its beginnings and ends and most especially, its temporary accommodations, is a powerful force on the heart. I don't think I've ever taken a long train or even bus trip without falling hopelessly and madly in love. No doubt the sanest thing you could possibly do right now would be to get right down to the Amtrack office and get yourself an east-bound ticket to love! Not that I suggest a tryst would fix your ills—train romance is almost never consummated—it is a long and beautiful game of the hunt—a mutual stalking and dancing and talking, often interspersed with smoking and drinking and pretending to sleep. In the end it boils down to a highly complex ritualistic ballet—no—expect nothing and hope for less, but buy an east-bound ticket to love and feel the muscles of a diesel train bolster the spirit of your heart.