The last day Camille worked as a Starlet hostess was on March 22, 1970. She and a train full of families and colleagues left the Chicago station for Oakland, California. This was the final trip for the westbound Star Train. They didn’t know that in 1983 the company that owns Star train would continue to operate, but none of that really matters. Camille would change into a tired person over those years, lacking energy to work on a train or anywhere else again.
Well, on this fateful last train ride, a common man with an uncommon hairstyle sat in the cabin of the train. At first glance, Bob Jones dressed like an old man caught in a time warp. He appeared out of billowing smoke and iridescent sparks that came from the direction of men welding pieces of metal from a salvaged train car nearby. He looked very young for his age. Anonymously dressed as a businessman but lacking the essence of a family life outside of his work. As he walked down the aisle, people stopped to stare at this unconventional man. Children left toys on the floor and clawed at their mothers’ sides to protect themselves from this unknown stranger. He carried himself like that of aristocracy, showing an elegance that none had experienced before. And this scared people because he was different.
Mr. Jones rested himself on an ordinary bench seat and longingly gazed from the same window that Camille had the night before. Camille noticed this and also observed that Mr. Jones grew a moustache like that of professional swimmer Maxwell. His dark brown hair was fashioned unlike anyone at that time, combed to the left side of his head and just above his ear. Perfectly molding around the bowl of his head and greased into place. His skin showed white from the sunlight glaring through the windows. He had porcelain sensitive skin and gestures like that of a white marble statue fashioned by a master craftsman. Mr. Jones wore a three-piece suit that became desaturated by the radiant light outside. The white dress shirt was striped grey and perfectly contrasted a brown tie that sat neatly under a vest that was custom fitted around his torso, and matched that of the grey jacket and straight-legged suit pants. The pant legs stopped above his black and finely polished leather shoes. They shined so brightly that they looked like mirrors reflecting back any image that fell upon its location.
And just like that, “Bam!” fate happened as Camille became hypnotized by all of Mr. Jones. Her left high heel broke and she flew down the aisle trying to catch her balance. Mr. Jones heard the commotion and turned his head from looking outside the window. As Camille floated by passenger seats, she wished Mr. Jones would come to her rescue. And he did bolt to her. He catapulted from his seat and appeared at her side, but only after she hit the floor. He knelt beside Camille and held eye contact with her. She didn’t feel the pain of her broken leg because they both lost any sense of time or space. Eventually spending that weekend in the hospital together and marrying shortly after.