And so Blaze, Amber, Brian, Billie and I spent our second complete day together on the beach since the weather was very nice . . . not as sunny as the first day, but the water was warm and I played more “cruise ship” with the kids.

I also marveled at the young teenagers, both boys, and girls, who were playing with the latest hot item on the market: skim boards! They throw the board along the water’s edge as if they were skipping a very large stone and then jump on the board and skim along the surface of the water, millimeters above the sand.

An excited boy tried to explain the intricacies of skimboarding to me and cautioned, “If you get one, don’t buy a Zap!” We spent the rest of the afternoon searching for gold using Blaze’s fancy, top of the line metal detector. It was my job to methodically sweep the head of the detector inches above the sand.

When the detector began to beep, Blaze would scoop into the sand with a shovel and pour it into a sieve that his son Brian had waiting nearby. We worked for about an hour or so and managed to dig up about six bottle caps and a few pennies. “I found a diamond necklace that a lady lost last year. She was crying her eyes out when I gave it to back to her,” Brian reminisced. He added proudly that he refused a reward.

Later that evening Blaze and I drove to the supermarket and the subject turned to luggage. “I cannot believe how nice my new luggage is!” I said. “It's made in China. The stitching is perfect, the fabric is ballistic nylon and I paid practically nothing --- $120 --- for a six-piece set. How on earth can they charge so little for them? They must be using slave labor.”

“No, it’s not slave labor,” he said. “It’s child labor.”

Blaze knows about these things. He has a factory in mainland China.

“No way,” I said. “There’s no way a child could have made them.”

“Yeah,” he continued. “Those kids do excellent work. Absolutely perfect.”

Dec. 31 Deerfield Beach Station, Florida. 8 a.m.

Blaze just dropped me off at the Amtrak station and since the train is running a half hour late, there seemed no point in him sticking around. Besides he was pretty sleepy since I dragged him out of bed. I see the train arriving in the distance: Time to get my act together, though quiet frankly I feel so good now I could just sit here all day.

Blaze says I’m going to become a junky if I keep taking these sleeping pills. It’s not so much that they put me to sleep. Rather, they relax every muscle in my body, diverting my attention from the things that cause me stress. They take me to a place far, far away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

For example, I hear a car alarm go off and there is no stress. I hear Brian scream at the top of lungs at night (and he is usually such a quiet child) “Hey! Where’s the light?” (he likes the hall light on), and there is no stress.

9:30 a.m. Comfortably settled on the Silver Meteor bound from Miami to Washington at a window seat. Finished my breakfast of French toast, coffee and two strips of bacon that my breakfast mate gave me because he said he could not possibly eat them. Total cost $9 including tip.

I went to the bathroom and applied fungicide for the trench rot on my torso that I developed in Miami. I removed my shirt to air things out a bit. Brushed my teeth, washed my face, man I feel great! Even cleaned up the bathroom for the attendant whose name is AC who keeps the car spotless! And listen to this: I even have an outlet for my heating pad right beside my seat! Is this luxury or what?

They say the train will fill up in Orlando, so I’m hoping for a nice travel mate. You never know, but I’m an easy-going guy and can get along with just about anybody. But that isn’t important. As I look out the train window it is overcast and the roads are wet. During my two-day full moon visit to visit Blaze the weather was absolutely perfect.

                                             * * *
Hordes of people just got on the train in Orlando, Florida on their way home from Disney World. The bathroom is now trashed. People don’t clean up after themselves. Some morons intentionally cause a mess or leave a roll of toilet paper in the john.

I now have a train companion named Denise. She’s an old lady, very friendly and probably thinks I’m a total lunatic with my clickety-clackety Alphasmart keyboard, my tons of stuff scattered every which way and, and, to top it off, the striped “Canadian National” Engineers cap I’m wearing on this leg of the journey.

We’re arriving in Deland, Florida to take on yet more travelers! I decide to take an early dinner because there's no way they’re going to have enough food for everybody. Ah yes, they finally turned on the air conditioning. About time. I was about to suffocate!

My coach car is very modern. A LED display at the front is not only the exit sign, but also scrolls information about the location of the dining car, the restrooms, the Amtrak web page and warnings to cellphone users to be courteous to other passengers.

The ride is bumpy, but that’s because the tracks are old. I noticed in Deerfield Beach that they were converting the ties to concrete and that will make a huge difference. When I suggested to the man in the baggage department that he might not have a job in January, he scoffed, confident in the future of Amtrak.

7 p.m. Just finished a lovely dinner with a school teacher, the kid of a General Motors labor union leader who finds his job repetitive but thinks it will last forever, and a black woman from somewhere in the Caribbean whose speech I could not understand.

My meal came to $21 including a tip. The barbecued chicken was OK, nothing to write home about, but I was starving. Also got a glass of wine to celebrate the New Year. I spent a bit of time in the washroom cleaning up when an Asian mom and her kid began banging on the door. The other bathroom was unoccupied but they just had to use my bathroom. I finally left and boy were they ever mean. Oh well, hope they enjoyed their lavatory experience. The place was really stinky.

7:15 p.m. Train is cutting through the darkness. It’s not warm out there anymore. Getting chilly. Took a sleeping pill. Picked up two newspapers at a service stop in Jacksonville, Florida. Think I’ll catch up on world events. We’re only an hour behind schedule. Maybe we’ll make up for it tonight. Long way to go. It’s been over 12 hours on the rails but it feels like I just got on. I don’t know why I don’t get bored like some people do. Guess I’m just an easy-going guy. This journal definitely helps and so do those pills.

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This marks the end of the TWENTY-THIRD installment of "The Last Hoorah." If you'd like to start from the beginning, then please click this page.

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