The train crawls onto the bridge. I can hear the live music echoing from the Beale and the Oyster Bar, rising above the low rumble and hiss of the freight cars. Soon the train is rolling east over the Mississippi, high above, mesmerizing, peaceful, ancient, one of the last living dinosaurs of the American landscape. And me riding on its back, a tiny, reverent parasite, a cartoon character adrift in a... More >>>