Fuck you, Amtrak

Right now, I am supposed to be dressed up.

Right now, I am supposed to be seated, martini in hand.

Right now, the lights should have dimmed, and the show started.

Right now, I should be watching Amanda Fucking Palmer as the emcee in Cabaret at the Oberon Theatre in Cambridge.

Instead, I am still on the train, somewhere between Providence, Rhode Island and Boston, not a victim of Hurricane Earl, but of a tree on the tracks that delayed the trip by hours.  If I’m lucky, I’ll catch the second act.  But I will have no chance to walk around Cambridge, no chance to enjoy Boston, no chance to really see Cabaret, as I have to hop back on the train tomorrow morning and pray for no delays, so I can catch my plane home. 

In other words, this side trip was a waste.

In other words, fuck you Amtrak. 

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