Superpowers

George W. Bush gave me superpowers. Kind of like falling into a vat of radioactive waste, the sluggish (aka, flat-lining) economy, for which I justifiably blame W, forced me into my bizarre work schedule, 12 midnight to 9 am. If there were jobs aplenty, I would not be enjoying the life of a nocturnal mammal. However, just as the bite of a radioactive spider turned a mild-mannered nerd into Spiderman, my overnight status seems to enhance my sense of the ironic and absurd.

For example, on my way home from work in the morning, I pass a church. Now, ever since I moved south from Connecticut, I've collected church signs (those adjustable plastic marquees). Not the actual signs (I don't have the storage space for that); I like to keep track of the creative or off-the-wall sayings. I consider them a type of regional poetry, really. A Southern haiku. Well, the sign out front of the Charlotte Second Church of the Morally Righteous reads, "Here, Not Wal-Mart, Is The Place To Save."

Apparently, the Charlotte Second Church of the Morally Righteous competes with Wal-Mart for its Sunday morning crowd. I picture many a young family, gathered around the family car, all decked out in their Sunday duds, deciding, "Kids, we can either sit with out community to hear the word of the lord, or we can stand in line with a shirtless contractor to pay $0.55 for sauerkraut. What do you think?"

MMmmm... sauerkraut....

So, from what was admittedly already a strange sense of humor rises my Overnight Train skewed take on life, liberty and the pursuit of the eight-hour sleep-day.

PS, another church sign I observed this last weekend: "If you have a pulse, you have a purpose." I have a number of aquaintences (heck, close family members), who possess one but not the other. Sadly, none of them are vampires. Vampire relatives would be awesome. Reality is so not that cool.