We had to wake at 6am, which I think was earlier than either of us had been awake in years. We trudged back to the station for our 5 hour ride to San Francisco. I wish this picture came out better, since the bottle cap is telling us across the top, "Sorry, you are not a winner." As if that wasn't clear by this point.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But nonetheless, we slept the sleep of the just, or at least the sleep of the just-ate-a-gummy-bagel-with-highly-processed-cream-cheese.

 

 

 

And then the final chapter: on the last stretch into San Francisco our train made a quiet thumping sound, and I lazily looked out the side window to see a jeep flying through the air in a cloud of dust, torn metal, and flying tires, slamming into the side of a building like a tossed beanbag. Turns out some shmoe was trying to beat the train at the crossing and didn't quite make it. So we had to wait an hour or so while people ran around outside checking things out. We couldn't leave the train though, and they wouldn't even tell us if the guy was ok.

 

Somehow the guy lived, and don't worry, the train survived just fine. That's the front of the train, and if you look at the lower left you can just barely make out a little knick where it rammed into the jeep. Put your mouse over the image to see a close up. But we were back in San Francisco, hoorah hoorah, and I made it to work a good five minutes early.