After what seemed like forever the train jerked forward and the The Last Dance Shirt wheels began to slowly churn on the long metal rails that would carry me to war. I had waited to stretch out on my bench seat concerned that like me, others would board the train, find no place of comfort and continue wading through the sea of people until they too found an empty train car. I assumed that others, faced with the same dilemma I had been faced with when I boarded, would make it here as I had, but no one did. Fools I thought, who would give up seeking out an empty train car when faced with a 12-14 hour journey and no place to relax?. I felt a young man’s pride swelling up inside believing I had persevered where others had not. I thought myself brilliant, however it wouldn’t be all that much longer until I learned it was far less brilliance and much more like ignorance.
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For the first hour or so the view outside the train window was of city The Last Dance Shirt – tall buildings that looked like either offices or apartments. The buildings grew smaller and smalle, shorter and shorter, until they became single family dwellings on the outskirts of the large city of Budapest. Soon enough we were in the countryside where it felt as if I had been swept back in time to a place that felt more like the beginning of a century rather than the end of one. Fields of soft tall yellow grass seemed to sway back and forth in the breeze as we reached what felt like the trains top speed. With no facts by which to decide, I determined that the fields clothed in wheat. A train passing through acre after acre of wheat seemed to be a calm painting to paint that afternoon, just as it does now, some 29 years later. Were they wheat fields? Fuck if I know, I’m not a fucking arborist. As far as I’m concerned they were.
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