The mad railroader meets the mad reporter in the Marx Cafe.

I arrive in D.C late, but to some, early.. but to me a railroader? There really is not a so called "day." We have a saying on the railroad... "Awake Time." First, we go to a collective house party. Then to a store, then to a bar.. just for a second.. then to the Marx Cafe. I guess for us this was the trip to the "Chestnut Tree Cafe." The place where the activists go to wait... well that's Orwellian... wink. wink...

We yelled over a very loud DJ, who was playing the last call, go the fuck home music. Two labor reporters. Sort of.. my friend gets paid to report on the "labor desk." I am a front line labor organizer.. and last night's frontline... was the cold, late night streets of D.C. America's "capital.."

so .... now, I sit at the kitchen table, the final resting place of the pizza box,  to make my report, it's now 10 am or so.. and the young whippersnappers are waking.

but

let's not get time specific.

#RAILROADED on the road..

JP Wright
Washinton D.C.
20140117 1130 hours