Our bus ride to Champaign would have been nearly unbearable had it not been for all the time spent laughing.  No heat, and but the vents kept blowing cool air, and even delayed because the windshield kept fogging up.  The Amtrak station felt about as close to heaven as I can reasonably imagine it can, save for escaping a pack of wolves, I guess.  We ordered pizza to the station, and normally I wouldn't eat something like that, especially that late, but I partook because I was going to be short on calories if not, and I had a long trip ahead of me.  It helped that it was hot, and continuing to warm up seemed like a good idea.

I knew it was going to be a long trip, but I underestimated, and I had no pillow, so even if I had fallen asleep, lifting my neck up probably would have been similar to unbending a hanger.  Also, no wifi, so even as I came close to zoning out and dozing off with my earbuds in, the signal would get weak or go out, and no more music.  I tried reading, but too bumpy and couldn't concentrate.  So, I decided to make the first entry into my physical journal.  That entry read as such: "12/15/15 - It's just past 1 am, and it is too bumpy to write comfortably".  I did give it another shot once we stopped for a while.

6 am and stopped in Memphis.  Haven't slept but maybe a half hour, max.  I definitely need something to stabilize my neck on the way back.  Couldn't really enjoy all this time awake, since Shannon and everyone else was asleep, no wifi, in-and-out phone signal, and it's dark.  Sun is coming up now, but may not be as bright as the woman in the front of the car with the bright red afro.  She's wearing a hoodie of the same color, and that seems overkill, if not just a bad fashion sense.  I mean, I don't wear a lot of light brown or dirty blonde clothes.  Deep thought of the night: traveling on this train in the dark, especially in relative silence, is similar to suffering with mental illness.  You feel the ride, the bumps, the swaying, and you feel the momentum and the pull of time, but you remain largely unaware of what is going on around you, the people and joy, and you feel like you aren't the one driving.  You know there's better out there, you see glimpses, but it feels somewhat distant, and you're unsure of how to take control of the ride, and scared that if you do, you'll just wreck it all, so you begin to think of how to just make it stop...

When the world was lit up again, now in the south, I began noticing, especially once we hit Mississippi, that the towns are a little more spread out than what you usually see back in the midwest, and there's a different hue to the land.  A lot of trash, a lot of rundown, burnt out, abandoned buildings.  Everything seems a little more sun bleached and dilapidated.  The age, and the scars of war and segregation, seem to show through.  This land has beauty, though.  Seeing the Mississippi in its true, massive glory from the observation car was pretty cool.  Also cool was my conversation with another passenger, and Louisiana native.  It began as he was commenting to Lisa and I about the weather, and then some of the history of Louisiana, as Brandon and I had just discussed the history we researched with the class.  Once Lisa left to eat, the man and I kept talking, mostly about history of the state, but we did it from a distance.  Eventually, I walked over to him and the discussion turned more towards the political.  It did not get contentious, and we agreed on most things, despite him being a southern Christian who seems to lean more towards the Republican or conservative side, and me being an agnostic Yankee who leans more towards the Democratic or liberal side.  I take this as just another example that we as a nation off normal people are not as divided as politicians and the media are, and portray us as.  I bid him adieu, and finally went to eat my lunch, and then it wasn't much longer until our arrival.