July 10, 2006

Walking through St. Thomas on sweltering Saturday afternoon feels like a slow, passionate mindfuck. This feeling is not caused solely by the miles of rusty railway that cut through the landscape but lead nowhere — St. Thomas is after all the defunct “railway capital of Canada.” Rather, as soon as you step into town a multitude of tiny details jump out at you all at once, convincing you that either you or St. Thomas have gone mad.

“Holy shit,” I shouted at Laura. “That’s a clown driving a car!” By the time she turned her head to look, the clown was gone and my head exploded. The clown was just the last in a series of apparitions (fluorescent bees, fat kids on small bikes, temples of labour) that were too much for my simple mind to handle.

We ran in mental agony through the streets until we found the train station, where everybody on the platform was dressed as though it was 1856. In unison, we let out a sudden yelp of surprise, and then lined up in the hot sun to listen to the train conductor tell us about railway history.

As it happens, on the day we arrived in St. Thomas, the London and Port Stanley Railway (L&PS) was celebrating its 150th anniversary with a historical recreation of the first ride. I was a bit too excited to get on the train, which didn’t escape the attention of the local newspaper reported on hand to document the celebration. He took our picture, asked us questions, and we told him lies.

By the time we got on the train we were hot and goofy. The L&PS railway (the acronym used to stand for Late and Poor Service to describe its historical performance) remained true to its nickname. The train took a wonderful, slow ride through the countryside, stopping often for no reason at all.

We were delighted with the sudden jolts of power that ticked our ribs, and grew even happier when the organizers of the event served us delicious (and free) sandwiches and drinks.

By the time we arrived in Port Stanley, the whole train was a bustling hive of happiness. For the ride back, we stuck our heads out the window and listened to the screeching of the iron wheels. The whole experience felt unreal and our heads swirled with colours, motions, and the smell of poo in our nostrils. The train was packed with babies and older persons.

My love affair with trains has taken on a new dimension.

See happy, happy pictures here.