I was disappointed by the time I got to the beach. The skies weren’t a bright yellow, or even a cool blue, but an evil gray with a breeze swaying like a swing at a playground. It was this way two blocks short of the ocean, and my sixth sense didn’t carry me to the ocean. For a good ten minutes, I was paraphrasing my rumblings as to why I didn’t bring a jacket or a sweater. I exercised my resilient personality and I would stroll along the promenade, enjoying the mixed smells of the Pacific Ocean and restaurant food, checking out the street entertainment, and the sea of humanity, with ladies in short skirts and revealing blouses, and the guys in shorts with the usual optional shirt.

The lively people, the sound of acoustic guitars, the breakdancing permeates the otherwise dreary landscape. It reminds me of the days of not having to cough up two weeks pay for a live concert. I hustle myself into a bookstore where I browse and keep warm. But I was really killing time, for being amongst these beach goers is a comfort, cheaper than a pumpkin latte. But then I resigned on the real and true reason: My return train home is about three hours away from departing Union Station.

One hour and two bookstores later, I succumb to the cold and catch the express bus to Union Station. The stars play hide-and-seek in the city, and inside, the station is still in busy mode. My eager and enthusiasm is now focused on going home and feeding my face. My emotions are tired and my flesh is weak, but once I boarded the return train there is conversation and laughter coming from three middle-class married couples across the aisles from me. Obviously, they were enjoying their day, which allowed me to enjoy my day, knowing all is well in the world, at least for those couples. Minutes after the train left Union Station, looking at the three happy couples made me visualize myself with a lovely beauty, spending a lovely day together. One by one, each couple left, and the passengers grew sparse. The train would stop and start a few times, and I am holding my breath that there are no delays. To my surprise, my train is ahead of schedule. There isn’t much to see as I get further away from the city, and scene would be a dark blue, and it would make most of those in car fall asleep. Closing in on my arrival station, my stomach is getting more anxious as I am eager. And then it calms down once I exit the train.

I walk down the dusty road to my lonely truck, and within a short minute the train glides away into darkness. I would drive away from the quiet downtown, the Upland Lemon Festival is done for the night, and the stars are visible. Most importantly, the weather is just right, and in an hour some pasta salad is in my sight.