I've been thinking about "Planes, Trains and Automobiles," which hilariously depicted the weirdness of travel as it existed back then. I'd shudder to think of the post-9/11 version of that flick. But I've had a lot of time on planes and trains, as well as buses, lately, and my overall conclusion is that I really love my automobile.
That's the danger of being an American over-consumer: I know perfectly well that my car helps destroy the environment, clog the roads, and rocket my blood pressure. I'm feeding the evil oil industry and reducing my participation in social life by being in my car all the time.
But damn, I love to drive. I love controlling where and when I go, how hard I brake or how fast I accelerate, and deciding on my musical selections and temperature. I love not being ill from lurching and bumping. Not breathing fumes. Not sitting under someone else's armpit stank. Not hearing travel noise. Not listening to other people's mindless cell phone calls or smelling their meatballs-and-onions lunch while I'm riding backward in an overcrowded bus.
I've truly come to hate trains. I still haven't been on the super speed trains, because they were too expensive for last-minute planners like me. Those might be better. Subway trains and passenger trains just suck. Yesterday, I had to sit and talk myself out of just stomping off the damn train and calling a cab for a hundred euros.
Suddenly, I started respecting air travel. At least air travel isn't restricted to one damned track.
But then we had today's flight, which was actually quite smooth and glorious until the end, when Nicky felt sick from trying to concentrate on the video-sudoku game while the flight got bouncy.
Overall, nothing except trams seems likely to get me out of my comfy car anytime soon.
Unless I can drive the trainor plane, that is.
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