Day 8 Life on the Rail: 355 miles Anchorage to Fairbanks

I've always liked trains. I think they are old school, a little romantic, and in general an enjoyable experience. Until today.

Many of you are familiar with my hatred of almost all people. Especially children. Now, obviously, there are children that belong to people that I love that I am forced to become acclimated to, and on occasion, do actually enjoy. These are exceptions. Today I encountered a terrifying 3 year old named Naomi. Why do I know her name you ask? Because I heard it called about 4.6 MILLION times. Naomi was cute enough I suppose--brown hair in pigtails, little jeans, cute shoes--typical outfit for someone her age. She appeared pleasant enough until approximately 2 minutes into the train ride when the screaming began.

Most everyone has heard a child cry at some point in their life. Imagine the worst crying jag you have ever experienced and then multiple it by FOREVER and you have the agonizing wail of Naomi. I actually thought at one point she might be missing a limb or something. Obviously some sort of staggering trauma must have occurred to cause such revolting noise to come out of a child.

FINALLY her mother (who was one of those moms that thought anything her child did was precious even if it was robbing a bank, etc.) got her quited down. That was when the manic phase of the rapid-cycling bi-polar behavior began. What is worse than the morbid, blood-curdling scream of a 3 year old? One that sings.

She sang, loudly, for what I am going to estimate was around two hours. Actual songs, made up songs, humming, la dee dah-ing--all of it. Then one of the worst possible things occurred. She came into our car. (Oh, yes--all of this previous behavior has been observed/heard FROM ANOTHER CAR). In our car, we had an observation deck that consisted of an open stairway that leads to the top part of a car that has windows on three sides to aid in viewing wildlife, scenery, etc. Grandpa and Naomi went up into the observation car, which you are supposed to be limited to 20 minutes at a time, for the REST OF THE RIDE.

At this point, grandpa is holding court in the car telling stories about how he used to live in Alaska and how so much has changed, etc while Miss Naomi has removed her shoes and socks, put her socks on her hands like mittens, and replaced her shoes on her bare feet. She then commences to roll around on the rancid train floor, while singing and bumping into people, and generally annoying all who are in her vicinity.

By then end, I was praying for a derailment, oil spill, Caribou attack, earthquake, volcano (they have those here), landslide, avalanche, anything. We finally arrive at the station, after 12 hours on the train, and took the shuttle to our hotel, checked in, and had dinner at a little Italian place around the corner. I had the Chicken Rosemary Pizza--a white sauce pizza with chicken, feta, kalamata olives, rosemary and tomatoes--of course I requested no tomatoes. It was pretty good. I am going to post some pics I took on the train during the few moments I was able to concentrate. . .

We rode right past the river where we will be white water rafting on Friday. Looks fun. If our raft is pink like the one in the pic, I am not going to be happy. As you can see, it was fairly misty outside this morning when our train ride began, but most of it burned off by afternoon. Tomorrow we are going to rent a car and check out Fairbanks. We might pan for gold, check out the Museum, go to the Arctic circle and stay out late to look for the Aurora Borealis. (aka the Northern Lights--the funky colors in the Alaskan sky at night that can be viewed clearly if one is far enough north.) And, if we run into Naomi, wish her good lookin' out, because its going to get ugly.