Riding on the City of New Orleans

October 20, 2004 | Category:

I used to hate Halloween. It always went horribly wrong for me. I have only one good memory of it prior to the arrival of Bear. It is a story, told with a thick accent, that has entered the annals of family lore.

Many years ago, I was planning to spend Halloween in Normal (Illinois) with my partner at the time. He’d invited me down for a costume party, merriment, lust and spiked punch. I was in Chicago, and raced from work to Union Station to catch the last train south.

And I missed it.

Frantically, I jogged to the ticket booth. The best they could offer me a seat on the City of New Orleans, which had a stop about 40 miles from Normal. It was pulling out in 5 minutes. I bought a ticket, and left a fast message for my partner that I prayed he would get in time.

And then I began running.

Crazy people, business people, dressed-up people, tired people - they all conspired to get in my way. Oof. Bam. Sorry! Excuse me. Excuse me. EXCUSE ME!

Out to the tracks where it was cold, the train huffing and just releasing its brakes. I was sprinting hard when the strap on my duffel bag, across my chest, broke and the bag fell down my back. I, stumbled, scooped the bag up by the handles, and started running again.

From nowhere, a guy came up from behind me and pulled the duffle bag from my hand and raced ahead of me.

So now I was chasing him.

My lungs hurt from the cold, but otherwise I was in fine shape. But this guy? He was fast. Like fast Eddie, moving in a blur.

He jumped the train just as it began to move. My bag with him.

Then he turned and held out a hand for me.

Surprised, pleased, I reached for him and he pulled me aboard. We stood, close, huffing and looking at each other.

The conductor came along and herded us into a passenger car, almost empty. My kind thief dropped his bag in the first seat, and turned to me.

"I'm Jamie," he said, extending his hand. There was a burr in his accent.

"I'm Elizabeth," I responded, and shook his hand. Then he reached over and grabbed my left hand and held it for a second. He looked at the ring, which had been my great-grandfather’s - but I wore it on a certain finger to make a certain statement. Jamie said "ach" with a question in it.

"Yes," I confirmed. "He'll be waiting at the station."

"Right," Jamie said, gently releasing my hand.

I picked up my duffle and moved to the middle of the car.

The next 15 minutes I spent not reading the book in my lap and watching Chicago recede from view.

"Lass!" Jamie shouted. "Elizabeth!"

I poked my head up. Jamie was leaning against the front wall, holding a 6-pack of Coca-Cola. He held one up and I moved forward to accept. Not playing favorites, Jamie went up and down the car and offered one to the other 4 or 5 people on the train. Turns out he'd bought a couple of 6-packs in the food car.

"They're so cheap, here!" He announced, cheerfully. "I can't afford a soda pop where I come from."

"Where are you from?" asked a woman who'd scooted over to the edge of her seat to join in the conversation. I dropped into the seat across from Jamie.

"Scotland," Jamie said. He told us about his evangelistic church, how it was part of the new, more fundamental, Presbyterian movement in Scotland. How an America group of churches had sponsored him to come to America to study and travel around the states visiting churches and talking about his group and their work.

Suddenly I noticed that we were no longer a group of dispersed strangers. We were a half dozen, huddled at the edges of the benches and chatting like we were at a party.

“Oh, Halloween’s the Devil’s own isn’t it?” I heard Jamie saying.

“You think so?” I challenged. “It is very secular in this country. More a fall celebration than one of demons or witches.”

Jamie shuddered. “You indoctrinate your children with this? Promote the images of happy ghosts and kind witches? Aren’t you afraid for them? That they will turn away from God?”

The lady next to me brought up the tainted candy and the razor blades that had been pushed into apples.

Jamie nodded. “People say to me that they don’t believe in the Devil. They say that there is only God. But I know that isn’t true. There is evil, isn’t there? People do bad things just to hurt. For no other reason. What do you call that, I ask you?”

And then we were off to the races. For the next hour, we argued theology – we random people joined by Jamie’s Cokes and a famous train. We argued Devils and Angels. We argued Halloween. It didn’t hurt that he was beautiful and charismatic, and that he never turned defensive or angry as we disagreed.

It was exhilarating. You could feel the good will. We were in such an alive state. The best of what debate and fellowship can be.

It was an amazing ride. And it was over too soon.

The conductor announced my stop and I moved back to my seat to get my things. I was surprised to find Jamie standing in the windy exit, too.

“Is he a Christian?” Jamie asked me.

“No,” I said quietly.

“A believer of another faith, then?”

“No,” I replied again.

"I’ll pray for you,” he said.

“And I for you,” I replied.

And we stepped off the train.

My partner was standing there, and moved to embrace me. When we stepped back, there was Jamie. Who moved in and grabbed up my partner in a massive bear hug. Jamie didn't let go. “The devil is stealing your life away a day at a time, man!" Jamie warned him fiercely."The Devil is stealing.your.life.away a day at a time!!"

And then Jamie was gone.

My partner looked down at me, not knowing how to react to a drive-by squeeze and warning from a Scottish male evangelist. “Honey,” he said finally, “you’ve GOT to stop bonding with strangers.”

And we headed to the parking lot.

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