Trapped on the Train

I had every intention of writing a post last night, but it had to wait until this morning. See, Neil was over until about 10:30, and then by the time we cleaned up, I was already up late and I didn't even do anything. I thought I might post while he was here, but it turned out not to be that kind of party, and then I thought I might have some time before he got here...but that was also thwarted because I was trapped on the train.

Can I just say that, since I read World War Z -ON THE TRAIN, getting trapped on the train is my own personal nightmare. Seriously, if the zombies get me, it will be on the Northeast Corridor. Last night, I got a seat right away, which was good, but it was next to a guy eating peanuts, which was bad.

Princeton Junction:
Peanuts are stinky. Do not eat them on the train. Also, tuna. Thank you.
Your BFFs,
Hamilton and Trenton

Well, whatever. It's not like I'm allergic to peanuts. Although every time I see people eating them on the train, I think about all those kids who may or may not have airborne peanut allergies so their moms have the whole school made "peanut free." What the eff happens if they get on the train? Specifically, I would like to see a barroom-style brawl between one of the entitled peanut-munchers and one of the entitled yuppie moms who drag 6 kids in to New York during rush hour.

As long as there are no zombies.

Moving right along, because we were, the train comes to a complete stop. Then the conductor comes on to announce that a train in front of us has broken down at Princeton Junction, so we're stuck until they fix it. An hour later, I was home. I wish it were a better story than that, but other than breaking the Commuter Code of Silence, people were pretty cool. And no one broke The Code to yell or anything, so I am cool with that.

So that is why I came home to find two mystified boys standing in my kitchen, trying to figure out how to get a ball of pizza dough into a pan. They were looking for the rolling pin when I intervened.