71   Sunday, November 9   Rome, NY

I *am* going to have to learn to keep my pen still. I ended yesterday's 
entry with "The rain is supposed to stop by tomorrow. I hope so. I would 
have liked to make Syracuse today. I had better make it tomorrow." Guess 
what? Rome is not Syracuse. It has not stopped raining. It is raining 
harder. It is starting to snow/sleet. I have made 8 miles (13 km) today. 
Yuck, yuck, yuck. I'm also in a motel. Spending $35US -- way, way too 
much. But it's too ugly outside for a tent tonight.

   Rome is an ugly factory town -- not much to reccommend it. I didn't 
leave my "campsite" until fairly late this afternoon. There is, however, a 
really neat railway station here. Given that I had been trying to make 
Syracuse today, I thought, on seeing the Amtrack signs, that I might be 
able to take the train. I decided it wouldn't hurt to check it out, 
anyway. As it happened, it's Sunday, so the last train left quite early, 
and was long gone by the time I got to the station. So were all the 
people. It was neat -- like something out of one of those genre movies. 
The station was built (as I discovered) in 1912, so it's an old, old, 
brick building. There are wrought iron gates everywhere, moss and ivy all 
over the outside and everything. The inside is basically one huge chamber, 
about the side of 3 football fields, with these oak benches, mosaic tile 
floors, little tiny, high up windows, and more wrought-iron gates 
everywhere. There are little hot-coal furnaces scattered about, like the 
kind they have in saunas, except without the steam. With just a grille 
over top of them. The station was also an exercise in incongruity: it was 
lit by what amounted to candles. They were actually electric, but little 
tiny lights all over the place, in candle holders along the walls, high 
up. The only difference was that the light they gave was steady, not 
flickering. But in each corner was a brand-new, high-tech security video 
camera. And I was totally alone. As I walked about the room, these cameras 
-- I presume attached to motion sensors -- would swivel on their stands, 
following me around. Bzzzzzzzzzzt! Stop. Again, I would move. 5, maybe 6 
paces. Bzzzzzzzzzzt! The cameras would follow me. I would stop. Look at 
them. Smile. Wave. Move. Bzzzzzzzzzzt! hehe... I wonder if anyone ever 
reviews the tapes.

   Eventually, I admit, I tired of this silly little game. Although the 
reason for which I had originally come -- to find a train -- had gone, I 
still wanted some information. The schedule was posted on the wall, but no 
prices. And I still wanted to find out about my bike. I decided to try and 
find someone, so I went out to the platform. Or, at least I tried. The 
Station was undergoing renovations of some sort. The obligatory sign: 
"Please excuse any inconvenience caused by our renovations." End of story. 
Anyway, that being the case, the "normal" route to the platform was 
closed. I followed the detour signs, through what I can only call a 
tunnel. I believe it was the basement or something. I don't think it had 
been used since the station was built. At any rate, it had all the 
appearances of a tunnel. Complete with candle holders along the walls 
(this time with electric construction lights hanging off them, attached to 
a mass of extension cords), dank and gloomy atmosphere, and leaks in the 
ceiling; water dripping down the walls, leaving behind great ugly stains. 
Drip, drip, drip... I walked along a tile (I believe) floor, through 
puddles of water, clack, clack, splash, clack, clack... Coming finally to 
the end, around a corner, up a set of old concrete steps so badly worn 
they were almost smooth, and to a big wooden door. Locked. Damn.

   Went back to the main waiting hall, and tried to take the "normal" 
route to the platform. Nice try. Big, huge door secured by chains 2 inches 
in diameter, and a big padlock. Sign saying in no uncertain terms "No 
Entry". Okay, I figured I could always wait there, playing with the video 
cameras until tomorrow morning. At least it was warm. And dry. Until just 
past 11:00, when finally someone comes in. A guard. "Station closed until 
8 o'clock tomorrow morning. Get out." Does he have any idea about prices 
or anything? Not a chance. Any chance I can stay here for the night? I'd 
like to take a train tomorrow morning. "Get out." Okay, fine, we'll play 
it your way (not that I had much of a choice).

   Back out into the rain and snow, until I wound up here. There are only 
about 10 motels in Rome. 3 of which have offices open past midnight (by 
which time it was when I got here). They range from expensive to worse. 
This is why I'm paying 35 bucks. American. O well... at least the place 
has HBO.