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Last Saturday, I took the train into a wonderful little artsy and gorgeous town on the outskirts of Center City called Chestnut Hill, and was reminded once again of how much I love trains.

Out of all modes of transportation, the train is my absolute favorite way to travel.

If there was some way to take a train back to Europe or Asia, I would definitely choose it over flying or boating.

There is something so relaxing about the movement of a train. After only a few minutes of traveling, I begin to get very peaceful and sleepy.

And the train is perfect for someone like me because I like to travel fast, but on the ground. Plus, I get to view the scenery while whizzing through the various towns and countryside’s.

I detest flying for many reasons, but mainly because I’m not too keen on subjecting myself to a strip search and a proctology examination while walking thru airport security.

(especially without a proper lubricant)

Also, the thought of plummeting to the earth because one of the planes engines falls off, is not on my top-five favorite ways I would wish to die.

I mean come on, that would HURT.

Now, I WILL fly because I don‘t like being afraid of things. I force myself, however only after I’ve had a bottle of wine and one or three Quaaludes, so that when I arrive at my destination I walk off the plane looking like Bette Midler in the movie The Rose.

No, that’s not true….

I fly totally straight, which is why I can’t stand to fly.

And I didn’t always use to be like this until I was coming home from Europe back the in the 80’s, and the plane flew thru a HUGE hurricane for almost 30 minutes. I never came so close to making a ‘poopie’ in front of 185 passengers.

Talk about TURBULENCE. It felt like we had been thrown into a food processor set on puree. The plane rolled up and down and tilted left and right, while the engines roared and grind as if they were eventually going to exploded. When I turned to look out my window, I saw nothing but complete blackness--and this happened in the middle of the day!

It was HORRENDOUS. I sat there clutching the armrests of my seat, white as a ghost and sweating like I had just taken a 90-minute hot yoga class. My traveling companion had my right hand in her left hand, as she dug her 4" fake nails into my palm. I prayed to every spiritual deity in the Universe; swearing that if I ever lived through this I would be kind, loving and forgiving to all mankind, and never use the word ’fuck’ again.

Well, guess what? My prayers were answered! No sooner did I surrender all hopes of surviving, I looked out my window and saw the faint image of New York City’s LaGuardia Airport runway in the distance.

*sigh of relief*

And as soon as the wheels touched the ground, the entire cabin of passengers began clapping and cheering while the pilots voice came over the intercom….

“Sorry for the rough ride ladies and gentlemen! And the reason I didn’t come over the intercom sooner was because we temporarily lost our radar connection with the control tower, and I had no idea where we were flying. Therefore, I didn’t want to alarm you.”

OH. MY. GOD.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And as I ran out of the cabin, I thought to myself….

I will never get on a FUCKING plane again!