I'm on the Northbound train to LA from SD to see my best friend Tara. You know, the mere mention of LA has the most fascinating effect on people; brows crinkle, and words of disdain unabashadley fly out. I love LA. San Diego, on the other hand is met with the gentle cooing of oooohs and ahhs, which I find difficult to relate to. Although I must admit the idyllic beach scene that is my current view is filling me with a certain appreciation that I had forgotten until now. It's interesting to me how a little distance from things you were once so absorbed in, places counting too, can give you a greater sense of appreciation. Even when a place has become down trodden and all the things around you turn brass, with a little time and distance they renew and shine again.
As we chug away from San Diego, my arm sore from air hockey and fond thoughts of friends, family and a little work on my mind, I smile and settle in with complete contentedness. I will arrive with tousled hair in jeans and flip flops and am pondering the casual and possibly lazy nature of our culture as I watch North by Northwest. My, times have changed.
48 mins in: the train scene is playing. I'm marveling at the perfect display of elegance before me. Not on my train, on theirs. Eva Saint Marie and Cary Grant. Crisp clothing, perfectly tailored, properly sized martini's and table linens in the cafe car, pure grace, hell, they still make smoking look glamorous. It's moments (and fabulous old movies) like these that lend a sense of vicarious nostalgia. The same sense that spurs my love for the more circuitous route of train travel. This is the first time I have seen the film and am pleasantly surprised by this serendipitous moment.
No comments:
Post a Comment