Wednesday 16th October 2019

Still ill.

I woke up at half seven, at least rested, but soon my stomach woke up too, so there was no point in doing anything until it settled. Again, Jools went out for coffee and on the way bought me something for my stomach.

And, thankfully, by the it had settled, so we were able to pack and check out. We dropped our cases off at the bellhop, and we were left with the question of what to do.

Opposite the hotel was a stop for a bus tour around the city, so why not?

We bought our tickets, and in a few minutes an open decked double decker came along, we bagged the front seats upstairs, the screen in front offered us some protection from the very autumnal temperatures.

The bus went into and crossed downtown/the loop, the guide telling us interesting and not so interesting facts about buildings and characters, though oddly, nothing about the mob.

And also failed to mention the start if route 66, but we knew.

What we did see was where the nightlife and blues bars were. Just our luck as we were leaving that night.

We got off at Navy Wharf, now a centre for shopping and entertainment. We wander round, and due to being out of season, most of the rides were closed. It was too cold anyway. Inside we wander round before stopping at a bar for lunch. I did feel I needed food. It was a chain place owned by Jimmy Buffet, and they played mostly his records through the speakers. Inoffensive stuff.

I had chicken tenders and fries, though only eat about half. But I do feel a little better.

We hop back on the tour bus, and with three hours to kill, decide to go round again, which was good as a different guide told us different stuff about what we passed.

Even then we still had three hours to kill before the train was due to leave, so we hit the hotel bar. There was different sports channels on each of the four TVs, but all with the sound off. They were talking about sport, which for some might be actually duller than the sport itself.

I wouldn’t like to say.

I have a pint of IPA, then Jools says she’s like a cocktail she had seen being made for someone else. So I had one, too. A France 75, something with gin and prosecco, which was as sharp as my tongue, and Jools had a crushed berries something, which was rather good, and I wish I’d have had that too.

But, our time was up in Chi Town. We get por bags from the bellhop, then get him to flag us a cab, and he zips us across The Loop at dusk, through heavy traffic and dropped us off at Union Station.

Union is another temple to railroads, and with still an hour before boarding, I go round taking shots before sitting down for some people watching.

At half seven we were lead by a couple of cheerful lady staff members to track 18, then to wait until the train was ready. We filed in line along the low platform until we reached the sleeping car. We were allocated cabin C on the upper deck, so after stowing our cases we climb the stairs to our room, which had a seat some eight feet long, that could be turned into a bed, and above another cot that dropped down.

Classy.

Dead on time, the train pulls out, but after a few minutes comes to a halt, then reverses, crossing a bridge of the tracks to Union, clacking through freight yards and out into the suburbs. Jools dried the dinner, some take on a jambalaya, warmed in a microwave.

She wasn’t impressed. I skipped it.

An hour after leaving Union, we were still in the suburbs, but in time they gave out. All was dark, except the just past full old yellow moon, rising away in the east. We turned in for the night, as best we could, as the train rattled and rolled its way through the night, sometimes stopping in the middle of nowhere to pick up a single passenger.

Just like in the movies.