Thanksgiving Story

Yesterday I cooked my first Thanksgiving dinner ever and, had it not been for Trader Joe's huge selection of precooked food, it would have been a complete disaster. Also, the gravy that comes with the Tofurkey looks like a sponge.

One of the highlights of the day was having a story competition with my sister Kate. The rules were simple, the theme was "thankful" and we each had 60 minutes to write the story followed by 15-minutes to review.

When sister Kate read her story, it was a terribly sad play about a couple getting divorced. I on the other hand, ended up with the story below. Happy Thanksgiving!

I’ve never taken the Amtrak before and I’m excited for this new adventure. I’ve told all my friends in Chicago that I have big plans to make “train friends,” or at least that is what I’m calling them in hopes that it’s not all Mexican women nursing like it was last year on the Megabus. As the train attendant escorts me to my car, I’m pleased when he opens the door and I find three other passengers, a middle-aged Indian guy that is wearing an old Rams sweatshirt and sneakers and two white guys that are around my age and look similar enough to be brothers. In my mind I think, “THESE ARE THEM! THESE ARE MY TRAIN FRIENDS!” I’m very excited.

I quickly go over the subjects I will allow myself to discuss with them. No on reality shows, yes on baseball, no on the Hunger Games or any vampire fiction, yes on bars I go to, no on my strong affinity towards Mark Zuckerberg, yes on my strong affinity towards Bollywood. I tell myself I must not talk too much. I must try to keep my stories short. They must love me.

“Hey, I’m Margaret.”

Margaret is the name I stole from my grandma Maggie and I use sometimes when I meet new people I know I will never see again. I’ve never been too inventive when it comes to my alternate personas. When I was a little girl and would play school or house or something, I used to tell people my name was Laura instead of using my given name of Lauren. Laura just had something special about it in the early-90’s – like Jessica, Christina or Punky.

The three men introduce themselves. The Indian guy goes by Umar and the two brothers are Jeff and Jason.

The train pulls out of the station and my car is silent except for the creeks and other sounds trains make as they rock back and forth on the tracks. I try to get the conversation started – I want to talk to my new train friends. I’ve already had a fantasy of us telling stories and laughing so hard that the other passengers on the train are jealous thinking, “who are those super fun people in that party car?! I want in. That Margaret Laura sounds like such a hoot! She must be the most popular girl in the world! I bet she has a cool boyfriend like Tom Hanks or Jason Segel!” But for now, all I’m met with is silence. So I decide to start:

“So, are you guys all going to Kansas City?” I say this knowing that they guy in the Rams shirt must be getting off at St. Louis, but it’s an icebreaker.

“No.” says Umar. Predictable.

“Yes,” Jeff and Jason say in unison.

“Oh great,” I say in a very welcoming tone. I need to loosen these boys up. And when the car attendant comes, I think I will order us all some whiskey.

Silence hits again. But I will win. These are my train friends and it will only be a matter of time before Jason is telling me about his new job that he just hates – because it’s probably at the accounting firm – and Jeff is telling me about his recent breakup, I’ll call that girl a slutty whore because, I mean, she probably is if she broke up with my best friend Jeff – and Umar will tell me, well, I don’t know. He probably just read one of the Palin books and because I’m a white girl from the Midwest he’ll think I identify. But I won’t. AND, I will be able to wow him with facts straight from the campaign trail where a friend of mine worked. Yes, I can’t wait.

“So, are you guys from Chicago?” I try again.

“No,” says Umar.

“No,” again in unison, says Jeff and Jason

Silence again. Now I’m getting mad. Why don’t these guys want to talk to me!? I’m so fun and I’m wearing my cute new Jessica Simpson boots, who, even though is a total hot mess, makes extremely cute and surprisingly comfortable footwear which I look totally hot in. There is a knock on the door and I am so relieved.

The car attendant asks us if we’ll have anything to drinks and, in an attempt to lighten the mood, I say, ‘ohh my goodness, yes! I’ll definitely have a drink – OR FIVE – I’ll start with a whiskey and water and go from there.”

This makes me (A) sound totally cool because I’m a girl and drink whiskey and (B) sound like I’m totally fun and like to party.

Umar, Jeff and Jason order nothing.

This year, I’m thankful for the bar car. Maybe my train friends are in there.

THE END!