Lancaster-York-Red Lion

Wednesday morning, I found myself on a train for something under two hours. Although my book was too engrossing to acknowledge the 'Hook to Philly ride, the passing landscape held my attention out in farm country. The rural graffiti interspersed with clothes lines and silos brought more of an appreciation for modern Americana, and the Lancaster station was beautifully in that line of thought. Its vaulted ceiling was lit by a dirty skylight and the paint was peeling from every surface. Matt was already outside when I arrived. We drove the forty minutes to Red Lion, Matt explaining all of the little towns and counties on our way. It was fun. We hung out all day with another Matt, checking out various locales. We went to "the Top of the World" and hot-tubbed with more friends and a view unlike any I've seen from a suburban hot-tub. Bedtime rolled around 4 am, and I fell dead asleep. In the morning, we had breakfast then went out to Tom's Music Trade Store. It was impressive. Boxes. and Boxes. and Boxes. and Boxes and boxes and boxes. I spent thirty dollars on records. We got pizza at Central Pizza, and that was our day. I missed my first train back to Philly, but it was either wait in Lancaster or wait in the city. In waiting, I finished reading The Great Train Robbery and moved on to The Fountainhead. Luckily, there were no lights available for reading in the Megabus to DC, so I put it away and thought.