This past Sunday, we went out to Strasburg, PA.

It's odd to think that I've been doing anything for about 2 dozen years, but I believe I've been going to Strasburg since I was 4 years-old, and as such, have been going to the Railroad to Paradise for longer than many of the kids who are working the new tourist traps along the way have been alive. It's strange to think that.

Especially strange to think it would probably be illegal for me to try to pick up the attractive not-goth blonde behind the counter at the gift shop...

Anywho - a weird day. A lot of strange undercurrents of emotion, a strange sort of pall on the day. Perhaps I simply hadn't gotten enough sleep, perhaps it was the sharing of something that... somehow wasn't up to snuff anymore.

Things are running down here and there, the conductors, never the most charismatic at the best of times, give the impression they're working the till at Borders during the Christmas rush, with automated smiles and a marginally amusing script. I worry that the Joy is gone.