Romancing the Railway

Esme boarded Amtrak's Ethan Allen Express in Albany, bound for New York City. She gave her face mask a gentle tug at the bottom to adjust its fitting and seated herself a quaint spot on the right-hand side for optimal viewing from the passenger window. She withdrew her boarding ticket from her handbag for the conductor making his rounds, letting out a disappointed sigh when she heard the dining cart was closed for her trip, estimated at 2 hours and 41 minutes. Unfortunately, Amtrak was operating only at 50% capacity due to Covid 19. Surrounded by empty seats reminded her of how isolated the world had become, her time in seclusion without a companion. A glass of merlot from her Bright Cellars Wine collection seemed like the perfect solution to her, but knowing she would have to make do, she shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention to the world outside the window. A couple of blackbirds resting on the track platform caught her attention, forcing her to chuckle as "little blackbird" is another name for merlot.

As the train began rolling on its journey to New York, Esme reclined her seat back for more comfort. She brushed her long golden coils over her left shoulder and turned slightly in her chair towards the windowpane. The month of May rolling along the Hudson River was so peaceful. The Catskill Mountains enchanted her, shifting attention from her troubles to a glorious daydream.

Her trip transformed to The Roaring Twenties, an era of romance.

Esme sipped some herbal tea from delicate china while reading her newspaper. The lounge car was bustling with passengers passing the time before dinner. Women chatted amongst themselves about the radio show playing in the background while a crowd of boisterous fellows across the way engaged in a serious game of cards. The lounge, spacious with plenty of room to move about, was decorated in elaborate matching earth-tone furnishings and draperies. The atmosphere indicative of first-class with the appeal of any movie star found every patron dressed for a night on the town.

Her reading was interrupted by the voice of one of the card players. A thick Italian accent and continuous laughter of one of the men sent chills up her spine. Esme lowered her newspaper ever so slightly and pushed up the brim of her straw hat to get a closer look. Instantly she locked eyes with one curious fellow. He tipped his hat and gave her a nod puffing on a Cuban cigar. Esme twirled her golden chin-length bob between two fingers and, her eyes, blue as the deepest ocean, widened in delight. She lifted her newspaper again, trying to remain subtle, not desperate.

About twenty minutes passed, and the stranger approached with a welcoming introduction. "Good afternoon Miss. May I sit with you? My name is Antonio." Antonio was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He wore a navy pin-striped suit and a sharp black fedora. His neatly groomed mustache complimented his dark side-parted hair, high chiseled cheekbones, and olive complexion.

Esme folded her paper and placed it neatly on the table beside her. She straightened the bottom of her Coco Channel-inspired dress which draped just below her knees. The loosely delicate lavender and flaxen garment complimented her demure frame. She extended her hand politely, offering a handshake. "Good afternoon Sir. My name is Esmeralda, but you can call me Esme. Please join me."

The pair chatted for only a few moments before the dinner announcement. Then, they stood up together as if they had known each other for a lifetime and proceeded arm in arm to the dining car.

An aroma of lemon and garlic filled the air flowing throughout the dining car. Antonio and Esme were seated to the evening's dinner special, baked chicken and Mediterranean vegetables by an attentive server. A warm spice indicates the woodsy accent of cloves reminiscent of holidays and family gatherings. Their mouths watered in anticipation, perfectly paired with a caramelized medley of sweet potatoes, eggplant, and yellow peppers. The tableware was of the finest porcelain, and Merlot wine filled the vintage stemware.

Holding her wine glass up to the large passenger viewing window, Esme noted the orange tinge as June's late afternoon sun rays danced across the rim. Placing her glass on the table, she held the stem between her index and forefinger and drew small circles swishing out the boutique of oak and the aroma of black cherry. Antonio followed her lead, awakening his olfactory senses giving her an approving wink. Then, like beautiful choreography, the pair delicately sipped the merlot, holding little blackbird in their mouths for a moment to absorb the flavor indicative of dark fruit and tobacco before swallowing. The final touch: a low-key satisfying "Ahh."

Time stood still as the couple gazed first at each other and then out the windowpane calling their attention to the receding valleys and the sun making her descent. For them, minutes were not a burden but an accessory on this journey, possibilities endless.

Antonio and Esme chewed each bite of their meal, slowly relishing in every morsel of perfectly baked chicken, crisp and golden on the outside; inside, tender and juicy. The conversation was pleasant among the two newfound friends. They instinctively knew when to pause the chatter while indulging in the sweet hints of mint from their dinner palette. Their actions reflected the rarest synchronicity as they only just met, yet the vibrations indicated the reunion of long-lost soul mates. They shared a passion for dining and knew that to fully experience dining as art was to savor each moment of flavor. Having the ideal dinner mate to share the personal moments with was the ultimate pinnacle of ecstasy. Indeed: an intimate encounter.

Shortly after dinner, Antonio and Esme returned to the lounge car for the evening entertainment. A live band played, and the sultry sounds of the saxophone echoing were the perfect transition from afternoon to evening. Rolling along the Hudson, the couple took in the mystery and romance of the full moon from the gallery. The moon's magical intensity was like two bright spotlights shining down an on-stage performance. Esme was the lead actress-..., and the light's focus blinded Antonio to anything else surrounding him. He only had eyes for her and all her beauty, sensing her vibrant spirit and innocent soul. Antonio smelled the sweetness of her honeysuckle perfume and felt her heart beating as they embraced. At that moment, he acknowledged his feelings and went in for a kiss of her eagerly waiting lips.

Esme snapped out of her daydream at the sound of the conductor's announcement: "Ladies and gentleman, we are approaching Penn Station. New York City: next and final stop."

She touched her lips for a moment, realizing it had been a long time since she went on a date, never mind kissed. Rising slowly from her seat collecting her senses, she gave a full-body stretch to loosen her tight limbs after several hours sitting. She pulled her suitcase behind, following the line of passengers to the exit at the end of the car. Waiting in the vestibule, Esme adjusted her face covering thinking about life and how mundane things had become during the last year. People shared her loneliness worldwide, and she certainly was not alone in longing for change.

As she took a step closer to the exit, she paused, looking back at her empty seat. She inhaled slowly, then exhaled, releasing months of pent-up tension and anxiety. Then a wave of emotion came over her, forcing a wide smile. She realized that daring to dream as she had meant she was beginning to believe. No, romance wasn't dead; it waited in the depths of her imagination. Although her trip was over, the journey was only beginning.

Disembarking from the train, she thought about a famous quote by Gloria Steinem: "Without leaps of imagination or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning."