and we’re off!

March Break has arrived and I am off to Toronto with my oldest son. As I write this, we are on the train and he is amusing himself taking pictures of his mother with the camera in my phone (I had to get my niece to show me how to use it when we were in Florida).

It takes at least four and a half hours to travel by train to Toronto (longer if you are on a milk run, which we are). S. is now shooting riveting video of me typing and himself watching me. Whatever gets us through the long trip, I guess.

We were supposed to leave yesterday but arrived at the station (in the aftermath of another really big snow dump) to find long lines, bad tempers and complete chaos. Our line snaked clear around the station, it’s ending ambiguous (and the folks in each fork threatening to get ugly).

At one point, a disembodied voice actually announced, “If you are going to Toronto, your line is over there” with absolutely no indication as to where “there” could possibly be.

Faced with long delays, several hours of standing in line and arrival at our destination in the wee hours, I decided to cut our losses and postpone the trip to Grandma’s until this morning.

S. was very disappointed but quickly brightened when I offered up dinner at a local gourmet burger joint (three pages of possible toppings and a ‘tower of rings’ are all on the menu) where I downed a big beer (and blew my weight watchers total through the roof).

Early this morning, the train station was unrecognizable from the evening before. The lineup was short (all things being relative) and I felt fine about letting S. explore a bit (without the crowds, I could keep him in my line of vision).

We’ve boarded the train, listened to music, done some reading. S. has told me a story.

Only three and half more hours to go.

Sigh.

D. and my spouse will join us on Friday.

Update: Our trip, in the end, was plagued by delays. And motion sickness. That boy has not brought up so much over such an extended period of time since the Great Rosh Hashanah Puke-fest of 1999. It was grim. Very grim.

Note to self: Too much reading on a moving train is not a good thing, even if the evil genius did write his own magazine and vandalize a picture of his father.