The platform was mobbed with celebrities as the choo-choo pulled out of Walla Walla -- Zsa Zsa Gabor, Coco Chanel, Bebe Rebozo, Meher Baba, Mariel Hemingway (Papa's granddaughter), the skater Jojo Starbuck, the basketball player Kiki Vanderweigh, the dog Rin Tin Tin. John-John Kennedy was standing near Audrey Hepburn, who was so good in "Gigi."
In the dining car, Fifi set her cocoa on the table. "Yum yum," she said to her friend Mimi as she ate a bonbon and thought about the British colonel she'd met at dinner. They'd shared a tiptop poo- poo platter and then ordered plates of couscous and chow-chow. He was a lulu!
"Should I pursue him?" Fifi asked her friend, "Or is that a no-no?"
"Oui oui!" replied Mimi. "Anything for love. The whole affair is just too-too."
In the club car the colonel had made a boo-boo. Looking for Fifi, he'd fallen into conversation with other officers. "Now, now, chaps," he protested, "I must say ta-ta."
"Pip-pip, old bean," demurred a major. "Not before you tell us about the time when, suffering from beriberi and armed with a BB gun, dumdum bullets and 0-0 buckshot, you fought the Mau Mau in the pawpaw patch as the tomtoms played. I've campaigned from Pago Pago to Bora Bora to the shores of Lake Titicaca, and never heard the equal. Why, I've been under fire from the pom-pom gun, the ack-ack gun, the . . ."
"Yes, yes," interrupted the colonel. "Just let me go pee-pee. I'll be back chop-chop." He returned to the dining car, where a band played a medley of "Que Sera, Sera," "Tura Lura Lura," "Tzena Tzena" and "Louie Louie," featuring a guitar solo through the wah-wah pedal. A hula-hula girl in a mumu did a so-so cha-cha. A go- go girl in a chichi foufou paired off with a can-can dancer in a tutu. The conductor sat eatng Jujubes and rereading Nana while a steward, looking dumb as a dodo, sucked a Sen Sen and played with his yoyo.
"Boola-boola!" yelled an elderly Eli. He was not ordinarily a rah-rah guy, but all the excitement had left him a little gaga.
It was quieter in the sleeping cars. "Goo-goo," said a baby, his way of asking mama to recite "Baa Baa Black Sheep." But her mind was elsewhere, contemplating the fun she'd have when they arrived in New York, New York. She was eager to attend the big Dada exhibition, and she had tickets for the off-off Broadway revivals of "I Do, I Do" and "No No, Nanette." Shaken from her reverie by the "tweet tweet" of a cuckoo, the young mother searched her bag for something to read. Perhaps Catch-22, the chapter on Major Major? Or Lewis Carroll -- the poem about the jubjub bird? "Ha ha," she chortled, "Just the thing."
"Goody goody," agreed the colonel from the shadows at the end of the car. He'd found his Fifi, and they were happily playing kissy-kissy. A bit of verse would make the perfect accompaniment.
"My, my," purred Fifi.
"Well, well," the colonel smiled, little knowing that Fifi was two-timing him. But that's another story.