The Amtrak attendant knocked on my roomette at 1 a.m. somewhere outside St. Lo… · @A9Beacon · TwKit

@A9Beacon

The Amtrak attendant knocked on my roomette at 1 a.m. somewhere outside St. Louis. "Sir, you're in the wrong bunk." I wasn't. She knew I wasn't. She just smiled. Her name tag said Denise, 34, divorced, wedding ring tan line still fading. "Long night," she said. "Nobody awake but us and the engineer." She slid the door shut. Locked it. Sat down on my bunk in that little blue uniform and started unbuttoning it herself. "Twelve years I've worked this route. Never once done this." "Why me?" "You're the only man who ever said thank you AND meant it." A roomette is four feet wide. She still found room to get on her knees, then on top of me, one hand over my mouth every time the train hit a rough joint in the tracks. "Shh. Sleeping car. People paid good money to sleep." She did not stay quiet. I did not stay quiet. The train covered for us. At 6 a.m. she knocked again, uniform perfect, coffee in hand, professional as a church usher. "St. Louis in twenty minutes, sir." Then, quieter: "Same train. Every Thursday." Question for the comments: is it cheating on the train if the train is the one who introduced you?

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