Page 77 of A Very Friendly Valentine's Day
The One with the Shadoobie
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Gavin your conductor here. As you may have noticed—there’s an ice storm, and our train, which has been traveling at under twenty-five miles per hour due to weather and signal outages, is currently not moving at all. This is due to what we like to call ‘freight train interference.’ A freight train on the track ahead of us is stuck because it hit some low-hanging branches that damaged its engine. A crew is on its way to repair that freight, but we are unable to move forward until that happens. It could happen in a few hours. It could happen in more than a few hours. But it will happen. Until then, we’ll be passing out free drink coupons to everyone on board. Please drink responsibly, and for those of you who are enjoying one of our passenger’s portable karaoke machines—I’d like to request that someone sing ‘You Make my Dreams Come True’ by Hall and Oates for me and dedicate it to my Valentine, Michelle. Gavin, out.”
Sorry, Gavin. I’ve already picked out my karaoke song and I stopped drinking responsibly two beers ago.
It has been a couple of hours since I was able to get a cell phone signal. The last text exchange with Eddie went like this:
ME: This entire train ride has been a real shadoobie.
EDDIE: You know, I assumed the word “shadoobie” was some Old English word that meant “tribulation.” But according to Urban Dictionary it’s shit-related. I love you so much right now, I could just shadoobie.
I wrote back that I also love him so much that I could shadoobie, but the message still hasn’t been delivered. Now I’m feeling a bit crapulous—which actually is an Old English word meaning I feel ill after too much eating and drinking. There’s really nothing else to do here. I’ve prepaid for my hotel room in New York, so I don’t have to call them to make sure they hold my reservation. I just wish I could call Eddie to make sure he doesn’t think I’m not responding to his “I love you” text.
The exhausted and harried-looking conductor makes his way through the dining car, where many of us have gathered to blow off steam this afternoon. By blow off steam, I mean the Americans are getting wasted and singing, while The Earl of Fiddle Faddle Fart Knockerville has been sitting here fuming. Things aren’t going exactly as planned, and apparently, things usually go the way Rupert wants them to.
You’d think he’d somehow arranged for Eddie to miss the train himself, he was so pleased to find me alone yesterday. It was almost sweet, the way he took it upon himself to help me with the Wi-Fi signal, and he even offered to call to try to get Eddie a ticket for the TEDx talk tomorrow. He wasn’t able to, but it was nice of him to offer.
But ever since the ice storm started and the train began traveling at a snail’s pace, he’s been a turd squire of the highest order.
Now he’s got his sights set on poor Gavin. Rupert puts down his cup of fancy tea, gets up and marches over to him. I follow him. I don’t want to lose my place in the karaoke lineup, but I also want to make sure he isn’t too much of an ass to Gavin.
“Oi. You’re the conductor, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Right. I’m Lord Rupert Norton III, and this entire situation is absolutely unacceptable. I cannot arrive in New York City late tonight nor early tomorrow morning—I’m giving a Ted Talk tomorrow morning. I need to be well-rested and prepared. This young lady I’m traveling with is attending the conference as well and must also arrive there tonight. Do you understand?”
“A TEDx Talk,” I mumble. “And we aren’t traveling together.”
Lord Twaddlebottom either didn’t hear what I said or ignores it because he’s very focused on being an irate upper-class asshole. “Let me speak to your supervisor.”
Gavin gives him a blank stare. “About the ice storm? Hang on, let me just get God on the phone for you—oh wait. There’s no signal. Enjoy your tea.” And with that, he rolls his eyes and continues on his merry way.
Drop that mic, Gavin.
“Unacceptable,” Rupert mutters, shaking his head. “This would never happen in England.”
“I seem to recall reading an article that said trains in northern England travel at the same pace as a horse and cart.”
He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and blinks twice before saying, “I wasn’t speaking of rural England.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “Shall we retreat to my room, perhaps? This ruckus is giving me a raging headache.”
I take a step away from him. “I’ve put my name on the karaoke list, so I can’t leave. But you should definitely go lie down. There’s really nothing we can do about our arrival time, so we might as well enjoy the ride.”
“That is a very un-British thing to say.” He frowns. “Shall we meet back here for dinner, then?”
“I’m going to be staring at my phone, waiting for a signal so I can call my boyfriend, so I wouldn’t be very good company.”
“Your ‘boyfriend’?”
“Eddie.”
He grimaces. “Your friend the actor?”
What a shadoobie.
“Yes.”
“That seems…unlikely.”
