The Steampunk World

Being the continued explorations of a living steampunk.

The steampunk world is all around us, lying just out of sight, in a continuous thread of steampunk builders and culture that extends from the Victorian era to the present. You'll find no science fiction here: This is real life steampunk.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Getting onto the California Zephyr, I glimpsed the fancy-pants car that the Amtrak brass get to ride in. A guy told me the board of directors was in town. Neat car, wish all trains had balconies on the back like they used to.

I sat next to a railfan with a scanner, that was fun. He works on a tourist railway up in Michigan. He told me two things: 1) The "train robbery" tours used to be marketed to schoolkids, but schools don't have any money anymore so they market it to the Red Hat Ladies. The Red Hats get really rowdy; an 85-year-old woman once flashed the Sheriff. And 2) Jeffrey Dahmer's death was a hit put out by a drug dealer whose nephew Dahmer ate. The murderer was a lifer with cancer and 6 months left to live whose family got all set up from it.

A dude on the train asked me if I knew his sister Crystal. You know, that white bitch? No, I replied, I most certainly do not associate with people like her.

Then in Denver some federal agents came on the train with a sniffin' dog. The dog went nuts over the guy four seats in front of me. They opened his bag to find about 30 needles and some pill bottles... "oh, maybe he's diabetic" I thought. Then they turned over a shirt and underneath it was a chrome and pearl .357 magnum pistol. Needless to say they took him away. Can you imagine if somebody had a gun like that on a plane? I'd never make it to Reno.

Arrived in town and rode around a bit; eventually I saw a guy wearing MC colors that said "Reno Vagas". I figured he'd either know the Black Labels or he'd kick my ass. Turned out his brother was one.

I headed to the 100-year-old cowboy bar where they were said to hang out. A drunk old lady told me, "People like to listen to loud music so they can't hear the sound of their heart breaking". The bar was also an SRO and the clientele was all from upstairs. The owner offered me a bed, something I hadn't seen in a while, so I took it.


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