Prickly Pear has missed the train home once again. He comes running into the station, rushes towards his train, which stands motionless just ahead of him. Breathless, he comes to a stop three feet from the door. He stands there, perplexed by the closed door and stationary train, and wonders if there is a button he should push, or should he knock? Before he has long to explore this line of reasoning, the train begins lumber forward, towards home and away from Prickly Pear, who has now found himself abandoned at the train station until the next and last train home arrives in an hour.

Not, of course, that he is in such a hurry to get home. He just hates waiting more. The apartment seems like a tomb, he doesn't look forward to coming home to Autumn any more. He can't decide if home is a bad relationship or simply a good roommate situation. Sometimes, he finds it hard to tell the difference. Autumn will sit in her papasan chair, writing, and Prickly Pear will sit on the floor on the opposite end of the room, reading the news. Prickly Pear asks Autumn how class was, Autumn asks Prickly Pear how work was. The eight foot barrier of carpet between them seems to grow each day.

He walks to the liquor store and decides a pint of cheap vodka is in order for the wait, it's only just turned October but already the air has a bite to it. It wasn't this cold the last October. Vodka will keep Prickly Pear warm. The liquor store owner asks Prickly Pear where his friend is. Prickly Pear's friend is at home, and he does not wish to call his friend because if they should get together, Prickly Pear will inevitably drink too much. Prickly Pear drank too much the week before, he woke up too drunk to stand straight after skating to the office, so he took a seat at his desk and waited for the world to stop spinning. Last Friday was not a good day, Prickly Pear does not want a repeat performance.

"He's at home," says Prickly Pear, "And I am having a small drink to make the train ride slightly more interesting."

"Where do you live?" asks the store owner.

"Berkeley," says Prickly Pear, "It's a hell of a commute, but I have a good job there, so I just come here for class two days a week."

"What do you do?"

"I manage property."

"How many units?"

"About 350."

"That," says the liquor store owner, "Is a lot. Have you been looking at buying any property?"

"It's funny that you ask," says Prickly Pear, "I've been looking at buying foreclosures in Sacramento lately, the prices there are far below rents, and I think it would be entirely possible to be very cash-flow positive in some of the areas I've been looking in. Why, do you have capital?"

Two weeks ago, Prickly Pear didn't need any help with capital. Prickly Pear had obtained a two million dollar line of credit from Lehman Brothers. Prickly Pear had done his homework, and thought about all the posibilities and eventualities. The only possibility that Prickly Pear had not counted on was Lehman Brothers ceasing to exist while he was on vacation in Costa Rica. Prickly Pear now found himself at a lack for capital.

"Yes, we do, and we are also very interested in buying property..." he started

Prickly Pear cut him off.

"Well, I would like to talk to you more about this, but I do need to run to catch my train. I'll come stop by and talk to you next week, okay?"

"Okay, sounds good. Talk to either me or my brother here."

In truth, Prickly Pear had another very dull thirty minutes of waiting ahead of him, but he was tired from a long day, and his mind isn't the sharpest when he is tired. He didn't want to sound like an idiot to potential investors. Prickly Pear would rather deal with the boredom than torpedo his business plans however, so he waited.

His train ride passed without incident, and he soon found himself in Richmond, just in time to transfer to the second train he had to take to get home. He waits as the train pulls into the station, and slowly grinds to a halt. The train is barely, infintesimily moving, and yet it is still moving enough that they will not open the doors. Finally, the doors part just in time for Prickly Pear to see his second train leaving the station right before his eyes.

Another passanger turns to Prickly Pear and tells him, "I think they take joy in waiting until the very moment the Amtrak opens its doors before leaving the station, so they can see the hope shatter on our faces as we approach."

Prickly Pear nods his head in agreement, and slowly ambles through the ticket gate, up the stairs, and takes a seat on a bench. He begins reading his book, but he's tired and it is hard to focus.

A homeless man sits down next to him, with a fist full of lottery tickets, and begins scratching. He scratches. And he scratches. Down in a line on one, seemingly at random on another. Prickly Pear thinks about the money he lost in the markets today, and begins to wonder which one of them really is smarter. It seems rather debatable at the moment.

The train arrives, and Prickly Pear and the homeless man both board. Prickly Pear continues trying to read on his book, but eventually gives up, frustrated. He can't focus.

The man stands up, and Prickly Pear is suddenly afraid that he is going to leave.

"Wait," says Prickly Pear, "I need to know..."

"Yes?" says the homeless man.

"Did you win? The lottery tickets, I mean. I'm a writer, I need to know."

"Oh, yeah. I won a hundred and twenty bucks just now."

Prickly Pear had lost ten times that in the last few minutes the market was open that day. Which one of us is smarter, indeed, he thinks to himself.

"What kind of stuff do you write?" the man asks.

"Oh, mostly nonfiction, maybe with a bit of magical realism thrown in as well," Prickly Pear replies.

"Is that booze in there?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"I can smell it from here."

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It's Thursday.

Prickly Pear has missed the train home once again.

He turns the corner to the train station just in time to see his train leving the station. He increases his velocity, hoping to catch the train, but he is too late, and the doors close in front of him, and the train slowly picks up momentum, leaving both Prickly Pear and Davis behind. Dejected, Prickly Pear takes a seat and begins reading his book, to pass the time until the next train arrives.

The train pulls into the station, and a carload of drunks comes stumbling out in front of Prickly Pear. One lurches towards Prickly Pear, and recommends that he not miss out on the free wine.

Prickly Pear finds the prospect of free alcohol heartening. He boards the train, and to his elation, there is, in fact, free alcohol.

Well, maybe not quite free. It is Customer Appreciation Day. Four times a year, the Amtrak Capital Corridor Office selects a train at random to host Customer Appreciation Day, which includes one cent a glass wine tastings in the cafe car. Prickly Pear makes a one dollar donation, hoping that this will cover him for the entire train ride home. Prickly Pear is beginning to love Amtrak.

Prickly Pear avails himself of the free food, and samples each of the wines available, twice, just to be sure. He discusses transportation policy with the director of marketing. She is surprised that Prickly Pear studies these things. Prickly Pear feels that he needs more to drink, so he returns to the wine tasting area. He discusses alcoholism and the Blue Angels with an old woman. He does not use up his entire dollar donation, despite buying everyone present a few rounds.

Autumn is waiting for Prickly Pear at home. Prickly Pear stumbles in, late, and Autumn asks him where he's been.

"The train..." he slurs.

Autumn looks at Prickly Pear, inquiring.

"It's customer appreciation day. They had, uh, free booze on the train. It's not like I could say no..."

"Well," she says, "I'm just glad you're home. I missed you."

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It's Friday, and Prickly Pear is staring blankly at his computer screen, frustrated and lost. His assignment is to write a paper on a community of people that he is a part of. Family does not count. Prickly Pear realizes that he is not, in fact, a part of any community these days. Him and Autumn stay at home, mostly, and Prickly Pear is at a loss for a community that he feels a part of, much less one he feels comfortable writing about. He suggests, after twenty minutes of deliberation, that he could write about his online game he plays when things are slow at the office. Autumn simply laughs at him.

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It's Saturday. Prickly Pear goes to work on the ship with Autumn. He decides to write his paper on the community of ghosts he works with. It's as much a community as his computer game, he figures. He's at least seen the ghosts he works with, he's never seen the Dutch people he conquers distant galaxies with when he gets bored of responding to legal correspondence at the office. He feels the community of people on board the ship will make for an excellent research topic. Only one person does not claim to have ever seen a ghost, he has, however, seen UFOs on several occasions. Prickly Pear no longer feels so alienated by the word "community."

When they return home, Prickly Pear begins drinking. This should come as no surprise to anybody, especially Autumn. Prickly Pear is still bothered by the lack of community in his life, bothered by the fact he feels closer to a ship full of ghosts than the town around him.

Prickly Pear goes to a party. He runs into an old friend. What happens next is a chain of events which would only make sense to an intoxicated mind.

Prickly Pear wakes up in his own bed. This is a plus.

Prickly Pear does not know where his pants are. This is not a plus.

The last thing Prickly Pear remembers is coming back to his house with a few friends, after suggesting that they all smoke a bowl. Prickly Pear is overcome with a sudden memory of the fridge full of drugs at that moment, and asks if everybody present would like to take things to the next level. Ecstasy, LSD, marijuana, and nitrous oxide are distributed liberally. It is at this point Prickly Pear's memory fails him.

Ironically, Prickly Pear had spent the previous night busting up a tenant's party. He feels that most of his tenants think he is an uptight asshole, who never has any fun.

Just once, he would like to tell them, "Look, I really don't care if you have a kegger on the roof, just invite me, okay?"

Prickly Pear can't risk having his tenants lose their fear of him, however. Various city ordinances make him powerless and impotent to actually do anything, so he needs to keep his tenants terrified, so that they never try to test him and find out that he can ultimately do nothing. So, for now, he lets them go on thinking that he is an uptight prick, who never has any fun.

Prickly Pear cracks himself open a whippet, and breathes it in deep. If they only knew.

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It's Tuesday, and Prickly Pear has began to catch on to how the train schedule works. He darts out of class five minutes early, and dashes furiously to the train station. He makes it to the station with three minutes to spare, catches his breath, and boards his train when it arrives.

The conductor announces that BART tickets are on sale for 20% off. Prickly Pear has always considered BART fare sacrosanct, like death or taxes, something that could not be avoided. He walks to the cafe car, and approaches the man working there.

"BART ticket?" he asks.

"Yep."

"I could tell."

Prickly Pear asks for three.

"I'm not allowed to sell more than one per person," he says.

"I knew it was too good to be true," Prickly Pear starts.

"I don't see my boss here. I'll sell you two," he says.

Prickly Pear is falling even more in love with Amtrak.

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By now, most of the spines have worked their way out of Prickly Pear's hand. He has come to learn that cactus is not a friend, whether or not he has been drinking. At the time, the Prickly pear looked quite delicious, and Prickly Pear felt the need to eat it, then and there. Prickly Pear is not very good at controlling his impulses.

He climbed atop a rickety old stool, picked a cactus fruit, and then sat down, on a bench in front of somebody else's house. He thrust his fingernail into the fruit, and slowly began unpeeling it against his jeans. Within ten minutes, his lapse in judgment was apparent. Tiny, hairline spines had embedded themselves in his palms, fingers, and left leg.

The spines turned out to be nearly impossible to remove, being small and practically invisible. The only practical way to remove them was to go about his daily business, and wait for one to make its presence known, then dutifully pick at the location with a pair of tweezers, until it felt removed. Understandably, this process was less than perfectly efficient, and Prickly Pear's hands hurt for weeks afterwards.

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Prickly Pear is seated aboard the 555 to Oakland. By now, he knows most of the conductors by their face, if not their name. He is even starting to recognize some of the other passengers. The train ride used to almost terrify him, now, he finds the rhythm of the train rattling along the tracks comforting. He wishes he could set up a bed on the train, it might help him sleep better.

He hands his ten-ride ticket to Jim, the conductor. Jim punches it, and hands it back to Prickly Pear. Prickly Pear replaces the ticket in the front pocket of his backpack, and resumes writing.

Prickly Pear has now noticed a distinct lack of cactile sensation. The glochids(this is what they are called) are all gone. Prickly Pear does not feel irritation, or pain, or any other sensation in particular. Prickly Pear has stopped feeling most anything at all.

The train chugs onward.

The man seated in front of Prickly Pear is trying to make conversation with a girl he met at the train station. It sounds to him like they are both new to the school. The man talks too much, he asks the girl questions but doesn't really listen to what she is saying in response. Prickly Pear thinks he is trying too hard. The girl's body language echoes this.

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Prickly Pear has a nasty habit of feeling that the grass is greener on the other side. This is evidenced in his chronic inability to stay in one place for more than six months. At first, he used to think he had good reasons for leaving. Now, when the feeling takes him,he realizes that he's already made up his mind to leave, and he's just seeking justification.

Prickly Pear's train was delayed. Somebody crashed their car on the tracks, and his train was a half hour late. He took advantage of the opportunity to go to the liquor store to buy a glass of lemonade and a pint of cheap vodka. His potential business partners were not in that night.

Prickly Pear mixed his vodka with his lemonade in the alley, replaced the cap, and hopped back on his skateboard. He sat at the train station, drinking, writing, until the train came.

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The man is talking about Martinez, and Prickly Pear finds it odd how the world seems to revolve around Martinez, a tiny town consisting mostly of rednecks, trailer trash, and Republicans. Prickly Pear lived in a shack there, once, during one of his occasional periods of homelessness. He does not remember the place with fondness, aside from the time the local grocery store went out of business and liquidated all of the alcoholic energy drinks for .25 each. That was a good week.

The man is still trying too hard.

Prickly Pear has started being able to sleep again this week, and his heart has started to thaw. He no longer resents Autumn so much, and realizes what a good thing he has. He feels that old wanderlust rising in his chest again, he's felt it the past few weeks. He decides to ignore it this time.

The girl tells the man, "I should give you my number."

Prickly Pear is surprised. Maybe he was too harsh, too critical of the man seated in front of him, just as he is too critical of everyone in his life.

Autumn is waiting for Prickly Pear at home, and Prickly Pear is looking forward to seeing her. The man in front of him is complaining about the car that was stuck on the tracks, delaying the train, and Prickly Pear silently agrees. He misses his baby, his Autumn.

"Do you know if the car got hit?" an old man asks, from the row ahead of the man and the girl.

"No," replies Prickly Pear, "They stopped the trains, he crashed his car but he didn't get hit by no train."

Prickly Pear takes another drink, and urges, wishes the train faster.

The conductor announces, "Next stop, Martinez."

Prickly Pear has three more stops to go, until he is home again.

Sometimes, Autumn falls asleep in the living room, next to her computer, on the floor, so she knows that Prickly Pear will wake her up when she walks in the door. She made a sign one morning, a sign with a picture of a dinosaur and the words, "Kiss Autumn," and taped it to the back of the front door. Autumn's whole day is ruined when Prickly Pear is in a hurry and leaves for work and forgets to kiss her goodbye and tell her he loves her, and so Autumn made a sign so that Prickly Pear can't forget.

Prickly Pear has one stop to go, and he misses his baby. The conductor announces, "Now leaving Martinez. Next stop, Richmond."

Prickly Pear takes another drink.