Frequent Revellers
Christmas dinner dance trains
By Warwick Lawson
They came. They supped. They danced.
When the last bon-bon was broken and the final wine glass was washed-up,
patrons and society volunteers alike finally kicked back with relief.
Organising their fellow office workers and friends onto the train,
organising the train for the evening's run to Tarago.
The duality of purpose came together on the Xmas dinner dance trains program
with reality and regularity that the onboard live entertainment was a
virtual encore to those who have striven so hard to ensure the merry jest
and jive.
The glee was also audible for the village folk of Tarago, who have come to
denote this time of the year with the all-points-bulletin "They're Coming".
The 10.30pm roll-call for patrons to reboard for Canberra must send the
village back into The Sounds of Silence.
It's a wonderful, challenging concept - ensured of success by the ARHS
volunteers from diesel driver(s), platform attendant(s)/conductor(s),
runner(s), chef(1), kitchenhand(s), washroom attendant(s),
cleaner(s)s/preparer(s), passenger(00s) right through to mechanical officer
and guard.
Signallers and safeworking crew also take a bow.
And the band. When the dance car at times resembles a NASA module to
conduct weightlessness demonstrations, it's a tribute alike to performers
and boppers to keep their stability.
Still we are yet to hear
"Train-Kept-A-Rollin" !
When Santa kept making his appearance without his coterie of elves & sleigh,
passengers were wondering aloud if he had taken out the heroic manual of
Hollywood action man, Steven Seagal's "How to Appear on Train Totally
Composed & Unannounced".
An Olympic program of carriages'-long meet-and-greet-the-pax armed with
lollies and Ho Hos, the Red Fellow was in full charge to arrive at the for'ard
end of the train, in time to meet the passengers boarding from Queanbeyan
Station.
What a guy!
His official duties dispensed with, Santa would retire to the guard's
compartment in the HN ('up' carriage) and simply vanish.
We presumed the helicopter was in attendance somewhere over Pine Range No 2 Tunnel (this may
not be in Mr Seagal's Manual).
The week's worth or year-long toil of work behind them, passengers faced the
hard task of being fed, pampered, watered or something stronger, as the
train travelled over golden summertime pastures and ranges.
It was also the chance for passengers to mingle and negotiate the corridors for the next Big
Thing in party mode, or learn the inner workings of this veritable Rolling
Thunder Revue.
"Amazing", said one camera-ready gentleman, as he came upon the kitchen
carriage, bedecked with sweaty chef and kitchenhands, young 'n' old runners
ready to take the trays of food to tables.
The Rush Hour is comparable as the meals start heading out to both ends of
the train. The rule is serve one end at a time. A most sensible one.
Continued next column ...
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