Did You Hear the News?

"Do you think the train will be running this morning?" she said. She was a woman in her early forties, on the shorter, slightly wider side, with grayish brown hair and thick glasses.

"I don't see why not," he replied. He was the man standing next to her. He was in his late thirties, taller than she was by a foot, with thin brown hair and a wire thin mustache.

They both peered passed me, down the track, trying to make out any sign of an approaching train through the fog.

"You didn't hear the news?" she said.

He looked at her and said, “No. Why? Did something happen?"

"You didn't hear about the eighteen-year-old killed by a freight train right here last night?" (And no, she didn't speak with a hyperlink.)

"Uh, no," he said again, shaking his head to reiterate he hadn't. "But that would explain the news crew set up over there."

I let my gaze follow his pointing finger to the white news van parked on the other side of the tracks. In between listening to the progressing conversation, staring at my feet and reminding myself to be more observant, I had somehow missed it.

It was a NBC 11 van. Its rooftop satellite dish rose into the sky, temporarily making it the tallest object in town. Two tripods stood next to the van - one with a light, the other with a camera. For a second, I wondered if I would recognize the reporter.

Suddenly, the blare of a train horn pierced the fog. The man and woman peered down the track again for a hint of the train's headlights.

"Well, I guess it's running," the man observed.

"I guess it is," said the woman, sounding vaguely disappointed. "Of course, if it hadn't, I have a friend who takes the early train who would've called to let me know she was driving, so I wouldn't have even bothered to come here in the first place."

While I digested what she said, the reporter was getting out of the van and taking his spot in front of the camera. He wore a shirt, coat, tie and blue jeans. I recognized him immediately. It was Bob Redell, probably my favorite local reporter. He typically reports serious breaking news, but when he's given lighter fare, he shows a great sense of humor.

Anyway, I also noticed that I was in the camera shot. I knew I would only be a blurry blob behind Bob Redell's head, but to be on the safe side, I took a few steps to the right, so the imaginary people watching television wouldn't see an idiot in the background staring at his feet.