his fine day started in the crew beanery where we were served Louisiana dishes (I think it was gumbo and something else that looked like gumbo, a roadkill mix of good eatin’. Why we were eating southern in preparation for an Oregon run, I’ve no idea. But it’s good eating, far better than anyone (save Rob Gross) serves up (the Tuscarora? Two packages of sugar-free cookies). For all my snark, I did snark down too much, feeling bloated all session. Should have brought that up in the debrief.

So Zach was dispatcher and I was running road. I did have the Walla Walla local to run but I was out the door at twenty minutes after midnight on 525. When I first hit the road, I could hear Zach issuing flat commands like Mr. Roboto, solid, dependable. But once I came out of Pasco yard, the long Christmas extras came out of their holes and the railroad jammed up. Zack went from being an elegant pianist to a sweaty blacksmith in quick order. I got to Horse Butte and sat for hours – this is not an over-the-radio complaint, simply an observation. As the Christmas song says, “Oh, the traffic is terrific”. Myself, I’d have had tears on my cheeks if I’d been on the desk. After two orders and then voided orders, I finally got to move.

Pasco Yard, with valet classification AND a free wash!

The thing was, that was really a congested railroad with everyone in the room (save the remotes, my wife and John, phoning it in the from the other room (still needed turnouts thrown)). And you know what? The Wazu-Krewe really went to the battlements on this. Everyone slid past each other, called out turnouts to be thrown, worked as the team they’d trained up into over the last few years. No muttering, no cursing, just curtesy and teamwork. The only one who slowed things down was Dr. Chatty – ironic from the guy who studied YouTube videos and demanded us to say “Wilco” (I’d expect that from the army trains but not really from casual railroad crews). Remember, you don’t even need to say “Dispatcher” (that’s implied, but I caught myself doing it in the session). Really, it’s (1) Who you are and (2) what you want to do. For the dispatcher, it’s (1) who the call is to and (2)  his imperial orders. That’s it.

Wife-unit rolls down the Attalia Main, meeting a long grain extra.

My own personal observation – my wife was such a sweetheart to join the krewe (preferable to the thing she replaced). Had to smile when I heard her take an order and reply “We’re rolling”. She was so professional. And consider that the day before she ran a full session over at the Florida East Coast. Now, I know she does it to support me (and I am touched by that) and if I pass away unexpectedly (unexpectedly by me, as it is with everyone), after the club argument with who gets stuck getting my name on the Death Board in the clubhouse, you’ll never see her again. She likes it and enjoys coming out, but it’s not really her thing. Kinda like me and family gatherings. My only thanks in Thanksgiving is getting the hell out.

And thanks to John C for assisting her when she needed a bit of help.

Back to me and my own adventure, by the time I ran 525 and 815 (both westbound manifests) it was 1800 and I still hadn’t run the Walla Walla local. I’ll admit to a bungle or two (Zach as nice enough to let me back out of Walla^2 and have another run in). All in all, I got it done and wrapped up at 1am, just in time to taxi back to Spokane and run 525 out again. No rest for the wicked.

So, yes, it was a top-notch run

>>>THE BOOK LINK. USE IT!<<<

All Photos: Dan L

The Polar Extra hustles past Attalia, where the Lumberjack cut rusts in the Pacific coast rain.