A Scintillating Story in Which Ella Nearly Loses a Boot, Takes a Train, and Eats Lunch

They say that the best way to begin an adventure is not to run down the street with one cowboy boot falling off in a desperate attempt to make the train, but on Wednesday morning, I did exactly that.

I raced onto the platform just as the doors had opened and bounded onto the train, slipping down into the first seat I could find, my heart playing a tattoo in my chest. But then the train was moving again, and I could finally properly shove my already aching foot into my boot.

I know that cowboy boots, especially ones that aren’t entirely broken in, aren’t the best thing to wear when you’re going to be walking all day, but the way I see it, I’m only going to have feet that I can abuse in the name of fashion with little to no consequences for a very short period of my life, so I really ought to take advantage of it while it lasts.

I had a thirty minute layover, and Pippa called me just as I stepped into the station to figure out my connection. As it turns out, she had just gotten into Pottermore and was just bursting with news! I listened to some very long-winded descriptions of the wand selecting quiz and the sorting process, including being read most of the wand woods and flexibilities article. And we didn’t even snap at each other. I’m telling you Harry Potter is magic!*

I hung up just as my connecting train pulled into the station and settled back down into a seat. For this part of the train ride, I never like to read because there’s this river that the train passes over, and the water fascinates me. For some mind-boggling reason, there are these strange holes in the surfaces where the water is swirling as if it is going down a drain, you know, exactly like that tornado/hurricane shaped thing you see when you pull the plug in the bathtub. It’s not like this is happening in just one place either. There are loads of them, spaced every few yards or so. Unless the river is secretly a giant bathtub with multiple drains, I don’t know what’s going on.

Soon enough, we had pulled into the station in the city (let’s call it Swaziland) where my dad works, right across the river from the City. I walked through the station feeling important like all of the businessmen and women bustling around in suits. Then, as I walked along the pier, admiring the city’s skyline, I called my dad to meet him for lunch.

As we sat, eating Thai food, I tried to figure out how to avoid eating the egg they put in my noodles**, and we talked about books, writing, and publishing, which is one of my favorite topics of conversation and my dad’s career. And suddenly, it occurred to me that I was doing a very adult thing, meeting my dad for lunch and discussing real-life work, and it wasn’t like he was trying to explain to me what he does when he goes into his office***. We were actually talking about specific projects we’re working on. It seemed impossibly strange that this would be how more of our interactions would be go in the future.

This isn’t to say that I plan on restricting everything I discuss with my dad to work, but as I age, I’m going to spend increasingly smaller amounts of time asking him for things, arguing about food, and yammering on about topics that no one but a sympathetic parent would care about**** and much more time talking about things that truly matter. It’s been progressing in that direction for quite some time now, but it feels like it’s suddenly picked up so much speed, I’m going to go hurdling over the handlebars and break something.

After lunch, I got back on the train and finally arrived in the city.

Due to large amounts of chores and work, part II with all of the actually exciting bits will find its way onto the blog tomorrow.

*I am a laugh riot tonight.

**I haven’t eaten eggs in so long that when I took a bite of it, I couldn’t identify the taste or texture. All I knew was that it was gross, and it needed to get out of my mouth right now.

***It always disappointed me when I was little that he wasn’t physically making the books. In my six-year-old mind, working a book-printing factory was miles more impressive than being an editor.

****Long winded rants about the ink in tattoos not being regulated by the FDA and overly detailed analyzes of cat videos on youtube, I’m looking at you.

And as always, you can also find me on tumblr at http://emleng93.tumblr.com/, if you’re into that kind of thing.