Tuesday, 09/13/2005 Entry: "Ketchup 8/21/2005 - Trip From"

My final night in Kansas City was interesting. Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan was on some HBO spinoff channel. Then a third evening of thunderstorms. Except this one took two hours. The Weather Channel was watching KC closely. It seems that instead of crossing the city, the length of the front traveled through it at an angle.

It was horrendous and constant. Then, the fire alarm went off. I thought it was a tornado warning and freaked. With jellied knees and a pounding heart, I went for my pants. I turned on the TV. "Trying to establish signal." I had the presence of mind to dial the front desk. They assured me that the fire alarm sometimes triggers when thunder is close. It was tough going to bed after that. It must have been two or three hours of sleep total when the clock went off at 5am. Finishing off my packing and grabbing a leftover rib dinner from the hotel staff freezer, my ride was ready to take me to Union Station.

Once there at 6:15am, there was news that the train was delayed by an hour. When the ticket counter opened at half past six, I found that for a fraction of the cost, I could upgrade to a sleeper on the Southwest Chief. I went for it.

That meant parting ways with Pat. Pat was a squat little woman from the "Joisey Shore," who had to get home via my route, then connect with a Northeast Corridor train in Penn Station to Newark. As like travelers do, we watched out for eachothers' stuff at the station when either had to run off.

Lucky me. I came up to the nearest sleeper and was told I had to lug my stuff alllll the way down to the waiting train - to the first car? To room 13? Rene showed me to my room. He would be my "attendant" for the journey. I tipped him for giving me room 14. Heh! Rene had a Mexican accent and beared the general features of Cantinflas. "Oh my real name is 'Renato,'" he explained, "but people kept calling me 'Renaldo,' so I changed it to 'Rene.'"

While we were still in the station, Rene advised me to hit the dining car for breakfast before they closed. I was the cutoff customer and had their "Railroad French Toast."

Railroad French Toast, apple juice, and the last antibiotic pill.

On the way back from breakfast, Rene handed me a bottled water. For the first hour I made some reports for the office, then leaned against the two full size pillows. During our first "smoking stop" (my chance to do stretches), I got to meet my other carmates: a goofy guy with muscles and tattoos and his girlfriend: a giggly blond with an annoying laugh who looked like jailbait. They got on in California. A lean but quiet man who got on in New Mexico rounded out Rene's roomette group. I had just remarked how we had caught up half an hour, when the conductor announced that the freight train ahead of us slammed into a vehicle, killing four. What's WITH these people?

"You can always count on Amtrak: we're always late." This was funny until
we heard a moment later that four people were killed by the train ahead of us.

Welp, I knew what to expect, and asked Rene to convert the seats in my room into a bed. Man that bed was a relief, particularly after a week on that marshmallow at the hotel.

Lunchtime found me in a crowded dining car, and giving my order to a woman resembling a young Petula Clark. A man from coach was seated with me, speaking in a brogue. Sure enough, he was from Ireland, and - although he wouldn't admit it - was a railway afficionado. He told me of his trip thus far on the USA Railpass, how he did it each year, and how much a heap the Irish rail system was when compared to British Rail. Petula (her inflection was more Cockney I felt) brought my lunch and took his order. You have to admire those Amtrak waiters and waitresses. Not only do they have to have superior balance, it has to enable them to serve when a train is switching tracks.

Now with the mess cleared, the train flew on the tracks like a bat out of hell. I spent most of the afternoon sitting crosslegged on the bed, gazing up at the weird Midwestern cloud formations. At one point three pencil thin protrusions came out from beneath a high cloud and promptly dissipated. It was by far the most pleasant - and comfortable - part of the whole journey.

As with before, there was just enough time to get out of one train and queue up for the next. I couldn't find Pat anywhere in the terminal, so I was on my own. Someone rather reserved and geekily skinny took the aisle seat next to me. She was a writer and teacher - another lucky match-up, although I'm sure it would have been more fun with Pat.

She spent most of the time transcribing from cassettes and sleeping, and kept ALL her carryon in front of her, so instead of climbing over, she scooted into the aisle with her shopping bag and stuff.

The harshness of our conductor/attendant as she went over the safety protocols was dramatic, particularly after the hospitality of the Southwest Chief crew. Apparently only one set of doors would be opened for stops (were they shorthanded?).

The smell of the bathrooms got to me more than ever, and there were two consecutive coach cars with that vile smell permeating the air like the ventilation was tied into the sanitation. I had to pass these both to get to the exit and food cars. It was a long night, but it helped to have a neck cushion I picked up in KC.

At first we appeared to be on time. We skipped most of Indiana, barreling through and pulling into Toledo. Yielding here and there to let a westbound freight train clear our path and pass us on the side, we were only 40 minutes off by the time we arrived in Cleveland.

Then our luck ran out. While most people slept, we sat outside Cleveland while several caravans of freight emerged slowly from the path ahead of us in the moonlight. I think I lost track after 200 cars/trestles/tanks on the longest one. This sharing the same tracks for both ways is a bit ridiculous.

I dozed off once we started up again, and enjoyed the sunrise. At 6:30 I traversed most of the train (they put the NYC bound passengers into the last two cars) to the snackbar. The booths were comfortable while I had my egg sandwich and yogurt, and engaged banter with an elderly conductor boasting extensive knowledge of the route. Pat showed up and we gazed out at Lake Erie while pondering her options now that we were 90 minutes late.

After breakfast, I watched the lunatic across the aisle rant into what looked like a cellphone like he was taking personal notes. He had no one beside him the whole trip (half of that time he wandered the train); there was every indication that he paid for both seats. He said something about "the victims" always being guilty, and why not kill as many as possible since you'll get the same punishment. Then he'd snicker goofily.

After some games of Insaniquarium on the laptop and more dozing came Buffalo, another break. Following this I opted for the dining car for lunch. The menu was so similar to the SWC I thought maybe the experience would be too. I was the third person to be seated; they were so not happy to see me. After about five minutes (no one took my order yet), three nice people were seated with me. They traveled from L.A. to NYC - an elderly couple and her brother visiting from the Philippines. They were in one of the sleepers. "It's like a submarine," she said. By the time they took our order and served us, it was an hour later, and the train had pulled into Rochester. I could have had something at the snackbar in three minutes. But the trade-off of meeting these nice, well-humored people and sitting in a comfortable booth was worth the wait. I mean, where was I going to go?

Sure they had real linens, but they took an hour to serve my burger without a smile...

Later on we made a long stop in Utica. A very long stop. Waiting for a connecting train to pass ahead of us. People were getting cheap soda and snacks from a store. I wondered whether I should look for a REAL bathroom in the station? You know what they say: "If you're not there when it's time to go, we leave you behind." The attendant offered to make an announcement in the station. 30 minutes of indecision found me running - into a stall where the toilet paper roll wouldn't move. ARRRRGH!!! I barely made the proverbial seat nest when the announcement came. Oh no - not more ugly spinach! I ran to the train, defeated, thwarted...

To shorten an already long story, over three hours late and a car service courtesy of the company later, and some time in the bathroom I don't have to tell you anything more about, and I was home. AC on, some windows open, and an order in for Chinese...

...and then I looked up in the foyer. What happened to my ceiling?