It all started on the Amtrak to New Your City. We were having a lovely, if not entirely too early, start to our trip to upstate New York. Then we stopped in Trenton.

Since there were three of us traveling, we had an an empty seat in our row. Enter our main character. If you have ever read a Stephanie Plum mystery, you are well aware of the humor involved in our main character hailing from Trenton, NJ. This guy was straight out of one of her books. He was a larger, unkept man who was very loud and liked to yell at people on his cell phone. The extra seat in our row must have looked great, so he joined us for the remainder of our journey to the City. To his credit, he only cussed once, and stopped when I asked.

Enter the train conductor. A couple of minutes after boarding, Our conductor started making his way through the coach car to our new passengers, so that he could collect their tickets. Upon arriving to our row, Mr. Trenton realizes that his ticket is in his beat-up briefcase. The briefcase had had enough of whatever abuse had been heaped upon it in order to look in the sad condition it was in, and was refusing to open for Mr. Trenton. I had stopped knitting long enough for a quick game of go fish with my son while all of this was starting to play out. Many things were attempted to try to convince the briefcase that it really did want to open, but nothing was working. Our once kind and jolly conductor was starting to look more and more like a nightclub bouncer. At last Mr. Trenton says the fateful words, "If only I had something long and sharp to stick in here to try to unlock this!" Well, being knitters, you all know what comes next. Without a moments hesitation, I whip out the metal double pointed needle sitting next to me with my socks, and say, "You mean like this?"

Now you would think that this instant reaction would have brought smiles and thanks from the men in this story, but alas, the exact opposite occurs. The conductors face turns three different colors and his eyes start to blaze as he stares at the long needle. "Why do you have that?" he booms in a terrifying voice? I look at him, I look at the needle and realize I'm in a post 9/11 world and reply in a small voice, "It's a knitting needle. I'm knitting socks. Look!" There is a very long and uncomfortable silence while everyone stares at the needle. Finally Mr. Trenton, being from Trenton, acts first and takes the needle while saying, "That should work!" I am still under the hawk-like gaze of the conductor, who is waiting for me to make any sudden moves. I am am too afraid of jail to see what Mr. Trenton is doing to my double pointed needle. After what seems an eternity, Mr. Trenton pops the lock and happily returns my now mutilated double pointed needle to me. Mr. Conductor relaxes a bit and says to me, "Tell me the truth, is knitting just a cover. You don't strike me as the assassin type!" I'm slightly miffed by this. Is he insinuating I do not look like sexy Jennifer Gardner? I decide to let this comment pass due to recent events and tell him that I am really a knitter.

With the excitement over, everyone returns to their normal lives except of course, me. I have been left with a needle that snags my yarn and 4 hours remaining in my journey. I, of course, knit with the needle and cuss him in my head every single stitch.

On the next train to Albany, the man in the row next to us had a hoagie he could not free from it's hermetically sealed wrapping that the Amtrak snack car had wrapped it in. Seeing as the needle has already seen excitement that day, I offered it up again to the hungry gentleman. He was extremely grateful for the use of the double pointed needle!

At the end of the journey, my friend was excitedly waiting for us. All I could do was show my non-knitting friend my needle and pronounce, "I need to go to the yarn store, NOW!" All five of the other people who were present rolled their eyes, but I was immediately escorted to the yarn store of my choice. A big thanks goes out to the Spinning Room for their kindness and understanding, after a rough day on the train.

Happy Knitting!