eople always talk about the romance of trains, of rails humming and whistles blowing long into the night. Well, that was us at the local Makers Faire, an event held at the Orange Country Fairgrounds. We ran and ran and ran trains. Saturday, 10am to 7pm, Sunday 10am to 5pm. And these are long hours when you spend them slowly walking along your train (like sentry duty in a way), answering questions, watching your signals and gripping the throttle.
But we did it. We were placed square in the opening area in the main hall where most people came in, meaning we were the first thing people saw. And once they saw us, what could they say about everything else? The 3-D printers, the wooden telescopes, the steampunk costuming, the stormtroopers, the comic artists, all nice in their own way, but we were a grand railroad, stretching all the way across the hall. Kids ran with us, old folks chatted with us, and everyone seemed to have a great time seeing the little jokes sprinkled through our scenery.
The guys hung in there, running long hours (longer then me, in some cases). Jerry, Bill, Don, Steve and John (and Ben – my fault for forgetting) were the two-day wonders, running both days, pretty much beginning to end. We got enough positive vibe off this event that we might have even picked up some future visitors and even a new member or two, so mission completed there. So here I am, dead tired but happy that we put on such an excellent show without a hitch (well, other than the small scenery item Mr. “Don”t rush – take your time” Martin broke).
So yes, the layout’s home. I’m home. And the rails have finally stilled.
Until the next show.