It's 5:15 in the morning. You wake up excited with a day of new and amazing possibilities ahead of you. You bounce out of bed and hit the floor running. You jump in the shower, throw down some toast and head out the front door. Knowing that today is the day.
Your heart is racing with anticipation and your mind is cartwheeling through a smorgasbord of possibilities. You get to the train station at ten to six. You walk to the platform and you take your seat. You're very excited.
You're excited because there are so many trains going to so many places and you have so many options. So many choices. And you're most excited because you've been given a magic ticket. A ticket which will take you wherever you want. Literally.
Any place in the world. Wherever you choose. Doesn't make sense, but it doesn't really need to — it's magic. Not logic. Your magic ticket will take you to the place of your dreams. All you've got to do is choose your destination, leave your comfy seat and get on the train of your choice.
And enjoy. Simple enough.
As you sit there waiting, you become acutely aware of your heart beating strongly inside your ribs. Pounding even. Pounding with anticipation of what the day will bring. What might be. What will be. Where the ride might take you. So lucky to be given a magic ticket to anywhere.
It's a cold morning but you're not. Cold that is. You figure that excitement must produce heat. Perhaps.
You look down at your watch and it's six thirty. To your surprise, forty minutes have come and gone and so have eleven trains.
They were going to some really cool places but you figure, "That's okay, there will be heaps more."
"I've got all day," you tell yourself. "I don't want to be hasty."
"What if I got on the first train and then one with a better destination pulled into the station?"
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