Trains. Railroads. Railroad crossings. Train accidents. Massive destruction. That's a good idea of what happens when you get stuck on a railroad crossing. But this has nothing to do with us. Or that.
It was 11:30 PM Saturday. I had been to a party for my brother-in-law who turned 25 that day. The party was getting hardy and was decided that it would move to my house while the parents were away. We packed up the stereo, cooler (filled with alcohol), and drove off onto Main St. As we drove, a train began to pass us. It was stacked with shipping containers with names like COSCO and G.E. SeaCo emblazoned on the side.
I wasn't to particularly happy that the party was moving to my house, so I began to brew in my inner thoughts. As the driver was talking about swerving, I was looking at the train passing us by. The train was going faster than us and kept a slight lead. Glancing over at the odometer, it read 35 MPH. We sped up and once the odometer pushed past 40, we began to pass the train. Looking at the train, there were a few cars stacked two-high with blue shipping containers. On the upper left-hand side, there was a logo for G.E. SeaCo, which I figure is a shipping company owned by General Electric.
I started humming a tune. G.E. SeaCo, Seeeeeea Cohhhhhhh. Gee-Eee See-Cohhhhh. G.E. Seee-Coh. This went on for 25 seconds before I was told to shut-up. I dangled my arm out the open window, hoping it was stuck by something. "Maybe I'll hit a orange barrel or something." We turned off Main St. near a gas station and I began to hum again. Seeee-Coooh! See-Coh. G.E. Seeeeeee-Cooooooohhhh!
I wasn't told anything about my humming the second time around, but I got tired of it after about a good thirty seconds or so. When in doubt, just shout "G.E. SeaCo and we'll go!"
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