The train from Austin to El Paso is scheduled to leave at six-thirty, but a voice over the intercom says it will be half an hour late. That’s fine with me since I arrived at the station a full 20 minutes after Amtrak is supposed to close baggage checking.
I had missed the bus barely, standing across the street, on the other side of a teeming sea of traffic, watching as the one I needed to take to get to the station on time pulled away from the stop. If only the military surplus store hadn’t decided to close for two hours, opening up again right in time to make me miss the bus. If only I had decided to just suck it up and carry the 50 pound, limp, cumbersome dufflebag, packed with gear I probably didn’t need but had convinced myself I did, and hadn’t decided to try to buy a strap for it.
Come on optimism.