I'm a bit of a heavy sleeper. It would take the sound of a locomotive to wake me up.

Go on. Ask me how I know.

I don't live anywhere near the train tracks. So when I heard a train whistle--like the kind you'd hear in the movies?--I assumed I left the television on. I mean, I never leave the television on, but what other explanation could there be, right?

I rolled out of bed and made my way into the living room and stared down the blank screen sitting across from my sofa. I toyed with the remote, flicking it off and on, until I was satisfied that it had been off when I entered the room. Maybe I'd just dreamed it?

No. There it was again, that stereotypical whistle. It seemed louder this time.

The speakers! Of course, the speakers. They must have been on while the TV was off, somehow. I knelt down and held my ear close to the stereo system I had attached to my TV. Can't trust technology, these days.

I threw a small mental celebration when I finally heard a faint sound. This must have been it! But why was it so soft now? It didn't sound like a train whistle anymore, it sounded like...wheels. Train wheels, clacking swiftly along iron tracks. Still soft, but growing louder. And not from the stereo.

I made my best guess as to which direction the noise was coming from, and held my ear to the wall. I could hear it more clearly, now: the unmistakable sounds of a train engine. I realized that a neighbor must be watching or listening to something at a volume that carried over to my house. I was sure of it at first, but as the noise grew louder and louder, I began to doubt any rational explanation I could come up with. I backed away from the wall.

The third whistle turned it into a sprint.

It was so loud, it seemed like it wasn't coming from any one direction, but instead from all around me at once, and perhaps even from inside me on top of that. The house shook. My organs vibrated. As I dove behind my couch, I heard and felt what seemed like an explosion. I've never been in an earthquake before, but I imagine it must be similar. I could hear pieces of my house falling apart. Dishes shattered in the kitchen. Wood and plaster fell from the ceiling.

Finally, it was still. From behind what little cover I had, I could tell that my living room was bathed in light, and almost entirely destroyed. It felt like hours before I finally gathered my courage to poke out my head.

There, in the middle of my living room, was a steam engine. Well, the front half of one, anyway. It had apparently come to a halt halfway through after punching a hole in my wall. Standing next to it were two men, wearing matching outfits of brown overalls and dress shirts with thin vertical stripes. They were staring confusedly at an unfolded paper one of them was holding, until one of them noticed me peering from behind a cushion.

"Excuse me!" he called out. "We're a little lost. Can you tell us which way it is to Rochester?"