Storymania - She Likes Trains: The Little Engineer That Couldn't by Shelley J Alongi

She Likes Trains: The Little Engineer That Couldn't (2)
Shelley J Alongi

“I’m fine.”
It’s security and he wants to know if I’m waiting for someone to pick me up.
“No.”
“Oh. You’re waiting for the conductor.”
“No. The engineer.’
“Are you security?”
“Yes, ma’m.”
“I’m alright. I’ve got a ticket. I’m good.”
This makes him laugh for some reason. Is this one of the guys on the train that Glenn says are criminals? I don’t’ know.
He exits the train. I’m surprised because today I don’t yell at anyone, not even security.
I wait.
“Are you still on here, Shelley?”
IT’s raspy Glenn. And, he knows my name.
“Waiting for you so I can give you this before you run away.”
“The book?”
I’ve thought about this because I’ve wanted to say that this writing is about him. And , I promised him this two years ago. But, I don’t have time. He takes my proffered notebook.
“You want me to read this and let you know?”
“You can let me know. See if you recognize yourself in here.”

I don’t know what he’ll think. He’ll have to see that it’s not the book I’m writing. It’s on the first page. Well, he’ll figure it all out. Just leave it, Shelley. It’s ok. He’ll be ok with it. If he couldn’t handle this you would have never given it to him. I’m really ok. I think he will be ok.

Why am I so relaxed today? Maybe I’m tired. No. I got enough sleep. I had breakfast. I didn’t miss any trains. He’s right here. I feel like the five month wait between June 14 and today has been so short. Three telephone conversations and a couple of text messages later, here we are locked in the train. Sigh.

“they’re going to back it up a little bit” he says now about the train.
“What door should we go out?
“They’re both closed.”
We walk toward the exit.
“Left,” says the engineer.
We walk down the stairs.
“There are two steps, Shelley.”
He’s only said that once before to me. Is this a repeat of that day in Los Angeles four years earlier? We’ve come such a long way, baby.
I take the stairs.
“Dos,” he says signaling the successful completion of detraining.

“What train are you taking?”
“Orange County. Track 8.”
“Track 8?”
Is this Glenn at work? Is he distracted? We do have a lot going on. It’s noisy but not so chaotic, I think.
“Take me there?”
“It’ll have to be quick.”
I put my bags on my shoulder, get in position.
“Let’s go! I can keep up with your energy. I wave my hand, animated.
“I’m tired. I don’t have any energy.”
He kind of sounds it, but I, for some reason, question this pronouncement. Is he wanting sympathy? Maybe, he’s just telling it like it is.
Working too much? All those student engineers? He’s been working five months at least training them. What are they doing to my friend? What is he doing to himself?
“Don’t give me that,” I say animatedly waving my free hand, “your worst day is my best day.”
He offers his arm. His right arm. I’m usually on the left side but I don’t’ argue.
“We’re going to make a stop here for a second.”
We’re at the end of the train.
I forgot what I ask.
“Put my bags down.”
“Are they heavy?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Heavier than mine? I didn’t bring my black one it was too heavy.”
I smile. Could glenn have a bag heavier than mine? We are walking slowly, not what I’m used to with Glenn. I was ready to spring into action, he’s the one who said we should be quick. It’s just my own perspective, of course.
Around us on the platform, there is a fluid motion of moving crowds. People move all directions at once. In the midst of it the number one engineer walks with the new kid on the block. He is a railroad feather in my cap, friendly railroad engineer to casual rail nut friend. What a match. At this point in my life with so many complicated things going on, I’ll take the little engineer that couldn’t. You are the best, the right one, even if you are distracted and we don’t go to lunch. We will.

“did you do an air test?”

He addresses someone to our left. I don’t here the answer. But, I assume it was yes. He seemed satisfied with it.
“I’ll be right back.”

We start our last five minutes together walking briskly and comfortably to track 8.
“What did you do on your three day vacation?” I now ask him in the cool afternoon.
“Three day vacation?”
“After 269.”
Quiet. Casual. He seems a little unsure of what I’m talking about.
“You don’t’ remember?”
I can’t believe I’m asking such a casual question of a man who has now had eight fatalities or accidents on the railroad.
“Oh, when I struck that guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, that was an accident. Sometimes things like that happen. He was trying to beat the train.”
“You don’t wear a headset and try to beat the train.”
All of a sudden I realize he’s done what he’s always done for me, taken the emotion out of everything. He did that with Chatsworth, too. I suddenly don’t’ want to talk about it. We don’t have much time.
“What did you do?”
“Just got busy doing stuff around the house.”
“You didn’t go party?”
“Nah,” he says.
Ok.
“There were two other things I wanted to ask you. Do you still have the tattoo of Yosemite Sam on your arm?”
“yeah. The stick figure.”
“I can’t remember the other thing.”
“You’ll remember.”
Quiet Glenn, patient glenn. Raspy glenn even with this cadence. You’ll remember my rail nut friend even if I don’t’ have time for lunch with you today. He still takes time to walk his rail nut friend to the tracks. Wonder if he feels like he’s carrying books home from school?
Maybe he is weary.
Silence. Just walking.
“Tell Eddie…”
“Oh, I remembered. The blue flag thing.”
I wave him animatedly to silence.
Let’s leave Eddie out of this, dear. I don’t care about that. Lunch some time. On your time. Not Eddie’s time.
“The blue flag thing. Say the blue flag thing.”
“The blue flag thing?”
I nod.
“They put it there to work on it.”
He’s talking about equipment. A blue flag is put on equipment to signify that people are working on or under it. A blue flag can only be removed by the person who places it on the equipment. Each night when Metrolink train 221 ties down, they place blue flags on the trains or couplers while they service it, drain the tanks, fill the water, all the things they do to prepare for the next day. When the job is done they inform the engineer that the work has been done. This is what I’m referring to when I ask Glenn to say the “blue flag thing.”
“No,” I now inform the bestest engineer in the world that yes for once I know something. “I know why it’s there.”
Goodness I’m impertinent with my number one engineer, today. I interrupt him, I tell him he’s not telling me anything I don’t know. I’m trying to let him know it’s really ok if he can’t go to lunch with me. We just spent four hours on the same train, separated by steel barriers. He’s up there teaching a student engineer how to do his job. I’m just sitting there relishing the connection and the trip. And, now, I’m walking with him to track 8. He could have ignored me. He didn’t. And, I’m just being difficult interrupting my tired, overworked kind engineer friend. We both wouldn’t have it any other way, I suppose.
“Say the blue flag script. I want to know it’s you. I hear it on the Internet I just want to make sure it’s you.”
He says it. So nice. I should have recorded it.
“Metrolink 221 understands all blue flags have been removed. Protection has been removed. Equipment is in the clear and it’s ok to respot. Have a good night.”
“OH, yeah, that’s right. You always say have a good night.”
But, I do have one question. Why doesn’t his student say the blue flag script.
“He’s not around.”
“so, he’s making you do his job?”
Glenn turns from me, maybe in some dramatic gesture and says “yeah.”
The way he says it is so cute, engineer drama.
I laugh.
“I like the way you say that.”
To me it says everything. It means whatever it needs to mean.
The important thing is when he says on a normal day the blue flag script it’s him. He’s my awesome Glenn. He’s so hard to describe. But, he is distracted today.

Now, we stand here at track 8, where we got the famous picture in June.
“Okay.”
Once again, he reminds me he can’t spend time with me today. Does he feel guilty? I think, really, he just has a hard time saying no. He’s the little engineer that couldn’t. But, it’s okay, really.
He walks away. I’m happy. I’ve seen him. I haven’t melted away from sheer anxiety. He’s my cool casual friend. I’m not losing this connection to the rails. He really was the engineer I needed to meet when I first needed to meet one. Either that or it was just a good case of beginner’s luck.
Five minutes pass. I realize I never said happy Thanksgiving.
“By the way, happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.” I text to him.
And, then it’s my turn to apologize.
“Don’t let them work you so hard though you wouldn’t have it any other way. Get some rest #1 engineer.”
First argument. Seems like we’re both apologizing today. Or, maybe, in my case, I’m just making up for being impertinent.

In the middle of all this activity, somehow, train 684 arrives on track 8. Somehow, I’ve missed that fact, and it takes two people to remind me. Getting on the train, I take a spot in the hallway. The train, unlike on the June trip, is full today. There are, the conductor says, one hundred and fifty people on this train today. Bill, our friendly conductor, says that Tammy who gave Glenn the bells in June is now on a train in San Bernardino. She doesn’t have to put trains together. She arrives at work at 2:40 AM and gets off at 1:00 PM.
“I like talking-to the engineers,” I inform him.
“The conductor is the one who takes care of you.”
“I want to know how to run the train.”
“That’s who you need to talk to, then.”
“This is Jerry’s train?”
“You know Jerry?”
“I haven’t met him yet. But, Tammy said he was on this train.”
“He’s been on this train for about three years.”
Here I go trying to make more friends of railroad crews. Someday I’ll talk to Jerry. If he’ll talk to me, that is.
I’m so distracted by not being distracted that I almost detrain at Buena Park.
“Did you change your mind?” Bill asks as I prepare to take the stairs down to the platform.
“No.” I smile. “I just thought you said we were in Fullerton.”
Finally, we arrive in Fullerton. I take the stairs over to the north side of paradise and settle in for an evening of train watching. Settling in for dinner at the Santa Fe café I check my phone.
Glenn has answered my text message.
Happy Thanksgiving. Sorry I not spend time with you today. Maybe down the road.”
Actually, if I am honest, I have to admit that the number of times he says this is a little annoying. Isn’t once enough? Maybe he really does feel bad. Or, do I have to keep reassuring him? No matter, I’ve gotten so much more than I ever expected just from phone calls and two trips. And, then, we can blame Eddie, because if he hadn’t said anything I would have never said anything. Oh well. It is what it is and Glenn is the engineer that couldn’t but has already exceeded expectations. Everything from here on out is icing on my railroad cake.
Glenn, u r always worth the wait, I text him, and he is.
Besides, we have the Steel Rails book to look at. Remember? We will.
I remember later it’s not the steel rails book. It’s Tales from the Rails.
I’ll get him someday without Bluetooth, cell phones, lost calls, or anything else. Even if he couldn’t this time, he will. It might take two years, but I can wait. I’ve already gotten more than I ever dreamed of. It would just be icing on my railroad cake.

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