Mag-Lev

I've seen many parts of China, especially Shanghai, where we go every other year for summer vacation. If I were to pick one word to describe it, then that word would be: crowded. Almost everywhere we went, there were at least five people unintentionally surrounding one person.
But here, at the tracks of the Mag-Lev, were about ten to fifteen people, all spread apart. It was like 15 people at the tracks of a train. I wondered why that was so. "This is called a Mag Lev," stated my Dad, "It's extremely expensive; not too many people are lucky enough to use it because it's a business class of transportation."
That would explain the men in suits and holding briefcases. I felt like the oddball with my t-shirt and shorts, and the only kid standing at the tracks of the train. 

At least the train would reach the airport quicker. It's a good thing that we can reach the airport quicker to pick up my mom and sister, Alex. Since my mom got the plane tickets, I had to go with my Dad, and Alex with my Mom. I left a day earlier, and they did so a day late. Today, they're arriving.
My dad continued his lecture, saying that the Mag Lev stood for "magnetic levitation", meaning that the train was about an inch off the tracks, levitation using a magnetic force. This is how the train goes so fast; because it's not rubbing against the tracks, so it has no friction.
When the train came, I looked carefully at the bottom it.  It doesn't look like it is levitating, I thought to myself, I hope they didn't rip us off. This train is about thrice as expensive as a regular one. 

Though it was a long train, few people got out. But then again, only a few people got on. 

I walked through the indigo carpet covered floors. Finding a good seat was easy; the blue seats were all spread apart, almost looking like an airplane, but everything all spacious. I'd bet that there were several carts with no one it it. I took my seat as the train started to move. 

At the end of every cart, there is a space where a wide door would have been, and at the top, there was an electric sign with many red pixels to form words, and the speed of how fast the train was going. Since I was in China, I wasn't accustomed to using kilometers instead of miles.

At first, the sign read from 1 to 32 km, but only in minutes, it had reached 100 km. 200. 300. 400. 

By the time it reached 410 km, the scene outside was a blurred vision, and my Dad said, "I think that this is the fastest the train is going to get. Go stand under that sign, and I'll take a picture of you."

I stood unwillingly, and walked under the sign. If there weren't  other people in the cart, I would  have done so enthusiastically. But I smiled anyways. Not many would pay 30 yuan to ride an extremely fast train, so I was lucky. 

He took out my favorite black Nikon as I flashed a small smile, and I pointed to the sign above me, which said "410 kilometers". Somewhere in the back of the cart, a person laughed and I flushed in embarrassment, and as myself, I'm usually good at covering my embarrassment. That person took out his own camera and started to take pictures. But I looked at my dad instead, trying to forget about the other irritating dude.

Once he was done taking my picture, my dad put away his Nikon as I took my seat. The train started to slow, and the outside scene became clearer. Soon, it was only 30 km. And slowly... slowly... the train stopped.

The doors slid open quickly, almost unnaturally, and I started to stand up. Quickly walking down the aisle, out the door, and through the small group of people waiting to board the latest form of transportation.

I know that this story seems a little random, but I figured, it's not something everyone experiences, and it's been a while since we published stuff on this blog.