S.W.A.K: Sealed with a kiss
A 24-hour train trip is not what one thinks of when one thinks of romance. That turned out to be correct, but I was fooled for a while. I met a beauty from Brooklyn on an interminable train ride from Miami to New York during spring break. And like many a budding romance story from Brooklyn a grandma was involved (it’s sort of the Brooklyn side of the standard fixin’s of a country and western song.)
We were rumbling along, probably close to the Georgia line. I got up to stretch and walked to the back of the car, pulling open the door to the little walkway to the next car. I stepped out to get a breath of air and noticed that the air had gone from warm and wet to chilly and crisp. The north was in our headlights.
As I returned to the car, a voice called out. “You must be lonesome, riding all my yourself.” The voice and it’s not-too-dulcet intonation had Brooklyn stamped all over it. “Come, be by us.” It was as much of an order as it was an invitation. I looked ahead to see a head peeking over the top of the seat. It was turned towards me. There was another head with it. All I could see was the color and style. I knew immediately this was not another grandmother. I got to their seat to find that grandma’s companion was a pretty, nice-looking grand-daughter at that age where it was hard to tell if she was 13,15, 16. She also looked like she was trying to disappear into the seat as grandma said, “Sit down. This is my grand-daughter Cynthia. You can keep each other company.