On the Train to Perdition

I recently watched Bullet Train, which turned out to be pretty decent. Life these days is a far cry from the 80’s and 90’s when I didn’t even understand what a real problem was and took for granted the regular release of good action movies. Moreover, these movies never took themselves seriously, which was part of the escapism. The villains often died horrific, cartoonish deaths while the heroes delivered pithy one-liners. It was really great.

Bullet Train is set on a high-speed train in Japan. I’ve taken them in Europe and Asia, including this particular line. It’s a very pleasant, first world experience, sort of like a flight before America began collapsing. I’m not lambasting the fact that we don’t have high speed trains. The size of this country and the population density would make a ticket so expensive everybody would still drive instead.

For instance, Taiwan has a high-speed rail line that connects Taipei with the second largest city, Kaohsiung in the south. The island is mostly mountains and almost everyone lives along a dense coastal urban corridor between the two cities. One can take the subway to the HSR underneath Taipei Main Station, arrive at his southern destination and get back on the subway. The economics of it work quite nicely.

We don’t really have this type of situation in America, even between New York City and DC. I traverse between them on Amtrak and it’s alright because I suppose this is where the fancy people live. South of DC, your train could literally be four hours late. You just never know anything except that it won’t be on time. That would blow the minds of people from most other countries. Many years ago, I took an overnight train from Bangkok to Laos. If you needed to use the restroom, it was a hole in the floor but the time on the ticket was correct. This is a very basic civilizational principle.

One reason I find myself riding Amtrak is because driving up the East Coast into Manhattan is a nightmare. I had the misfortune of doing that recently and wondered if this was one of the torments suffered by the souls of the damned. Endless tolls, snarling traffic and indians from the jungles of Central America selling fruit. Perhaps this is how one transits through the bowels of Hell. It’s probably unhealthy to let your imagination run wild with this sort of stuff.

Still, the point of my rant is that I’m tormented by imagining what this place could be like if it was a functional country. I can imagine arriving at Penn Station in the time specified on my ticket and then getting onto the subway and not seeing a homeless guy passed out or wonder if he’s going to take a crap right there or wake up and shove anyone in front of an oncoming train. I can imagine “teens” jumping the turnstiles and then getting clobbered by a mick cop. I can imagine rolling past Petersburg, Virginia and not musing that it would’ve made a good location for The Walking Dead. Many such things I can imagine.

I’m essentially my own therapist because I just don’t often seem to encounter anyone else who’s outraged at this shit. I used to wonder if everybody else was just born with a sense of grim determination, but I’ve realized they just lack imagination. So, the disparity between what they have to deal with, and what they have the possibility of not dealing with, doesn’t place any burden on their psyche.

Here’s one of the other things I notice: most people don’t spend their time noticing things. I’ve got a cross country flight soon. When I fly, I always book a window seat because you can see all kinds of interesting sights. If you’re really traveling a distance, you might be able to look out the window and see the day while flying through the night or glaciers over the Brooks Range.

Most people look at their phone or watch a movie if they’re not sleeping, I notice what’s available to notice is literally of no interest to them at all. They’ll often close the window before the plane even takes off. I guess this is why a Satanic agenda can be pushed on them until the moment they realize it’s too late (if that even occurs). Getting shoved in front of a train happens pretty quick. Well, I’m going to pour myself a drink. That’s an important part of my therapeutic process.

Merry Christmas, everybody!