Where I’m getting at is, there weren’t a whole lot of ponies around here I could query to ask them how soon I could choo choo my way out of here. Except for those two male railroad workers on the tracks a little further up. The scruffy mustachioed ones under their striped hats. Hard at work, and potentially affable enough to appease a few of my enquiries. Maybe they knew something? They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t. Or something. Work with me here, people.