Getting stopped by trains...

 My cheap thrill is getting stopped by trains. Eyes usually roll when I say that. What kind of weirdo am I, to like being delayed?  Am I one of those train-spotters - one of those birders of locomotives, trying to build my engine life list? No, not me. When I'm stopped by a train, I'm a child again. Overcome by the marvel of the machinery, its immensity, watching it fly before my eyes as I try to count the cars.  Is it fast or slow? Are there more cars than last time? How many engines?  There is nothing I can do about it. The bars came down and the train is coming down the tracks.  I have no control over it and that is an inexplicably wonderful release. I can abandon the need for efficiency and all of my time constraints. Again, the train is out of my control --- and isn't there a wild sort of freedom in that?  To know that there are things that are simply out of my hands with the small exception that I can decide how I deal with them.  Will I curse in impatience?  That's a resounding "no" for me. I will relish the moment of knowing that there are things that I don’t have a say so in. There is power in relinquishing power, in recognizing a poverty in actionable choices - the train and its schedule are beyond my sphere of influence. That's alright by me. I'm not going to be bothered and then, when those bars rise, I'm not going to rush. Wherever I'm going to, I'll say matter of factly, "Sorry I'm late. I was stopped by a train."

Say, look at that cool graffiti!