To Wander Off

Dearest Rachel –

I realize that it’s an everyday occurrence for some people – it’s how they get to their offices, after all, and all the tedium associated with that – but when I walk across town to get to my ‘office,’ I pass by the train station in the middle of town, and I’m occasionally seized by the impulse to just get on the train and see where it takes me.

Given the things you told me when we were on our way back from our train trip to see your godmother ‘Aunt’ Ruth (which is to say, how you really didn’t like flying – much to my surprise, as you went alone with the family cruise trip quite happily – and much preferred taking Amtrak), you would probably be pleased no end. Then again, you might wonder what had gotten into me to get me to finally agree with you about how this is the better way to travel.

And honestly, I’d have to admit that it’s not really a matter of the train, as such. It’s just this desire to wander off. In fact, I’d prefer that the Metra would connect me directly to the airport, where I could then just walk up to a ticket counter, and buy a flight somewhere on the spot, just like I’d presumably bought the train ticket to get myself there in the first place. The train is just a means to an end, just like the airplane is; it’s just that much closer.

Of course, the problem is that the train doesn’t connect to the Blue Line that takes one to O’Hare; that’s a whole separate transit system. To be fair, this isn’t a problem unique to Chicago, by any means; the Narita Express is separate from the rest of the metro system in Tokyo, as well. Everywhere one wants to go – whether between cities or within them – requires making connections here, there and everywhere, and knowing all those connections beforehand so you can get where you want to go.

But of course, that’s the other problem with this urge; I literally have no idea where I want to go – or if I do (because yes, I have a few ideas), I’m not sure why, or if it’s worth the time, money or effort to do so. I just want the ability to walk into a station or airport, with absolutely no planning ahead, and just tell the clerk (or punch into the kiosk, because that’s the kind of world we live in these days) that I want to go to thus-and-such a place, and be given a piece of paper (or at least a QR code) that lets me do just that, with no more than a request and the proper amount of money.

And again, I don’t know why, exactly. It’s not as if there isn’t plenty to see and do right here at home; I don’t have to deal with all the time and expense of going halfway around the world. And heaven knows that, once I was on my way, I would wish that I’d brought along a change of clothes, or at least my computer, so as to keep myself occupied while in transit (not to mention to keep you informed of what I was up to). But walking halfway across town lugging a suitcase and carrying a bag would defeat the whole point of spontaneity.

And maybe that’s it in a nutshell; I want to be spontaneous about this sort of thing, to the point where I don’t even know that I’m going to do it when I leave the house. But I don’t live in a world that facilitates that level of spontaneity – and really, most of the time, I’m perfectly fine with that, too. It’s just that there are these moments, like a more benign form of the “call of the void,” where I want to jump onto a moving vehicle (any kind of vehicle), and let it take me… wherever.

There used to be a whole subgroup of people that would do this, a century ago; granted, they took the bit a little further by hitching rides without paying, and living in places I wouldn’t even consider, due to their squalor and danger level. They were known as hobos, or tramps, and they weren’t exactly welcome in polite society – although comic entertainment would often portray them as secret sages, puncturing the pompous egos of the elite of the day with either their native wit or status as chaos agents. Of course, their travel was more out of necessity – either finding a job, or staying ahead of the law – so what I dream of doing really doesn’t compare to that lifestyle.

And that’s the thing, too; I wouldn’t want to make a lifestyle of this. I’ve got this empty block of time in the middle of next month with no real commitments, for instance, and I wouldn’t mind wandering off and letting someone else take me somewhere. I literally got an advert in my email yesterday about a package tour going from Tokyo to Osaka and Hiroshima (yes, I’ve been to all these places, but only for a day or two at any one time), with departures as early as September (when I would want to go)… only to find that those more last-minute tours were essentially sold out. Well, I thought, why’d you even bother to tell me about that, then?

This isn’t the sort of thing we would do, back in the day, honey; although in fairness, that was a case of either not having the money or the time (or, let’s face it, both). Most people don’t. I’d like to think that the two of us could have done more of this than I can bring myself on my own; whoever was more enthusiastic could drag the other along in her wake until he was just as into it as she was (note the pronouns, by the way. You know it’s true). I mean, that’s what got us on the rails in the beginning of 2020 in the first place. I’m just carrying on (or rather, wishing I could) what you touched off back then, but without your “partner-in-crime” energy to actually get me to pull the trigger, buy the ticket and… go.

Then again, today I have commitments to attend to, so whatever ‘going’ I have on my agenda is a bit more scheduled. But as I do so, I’d like to hope that you’ll keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me well, as I’m going to need it.