LA: A few observations about train travel

Still later that same day, June 1, 2011

A few observations about train travel, pertaining to this specific instance of course. There are also trains in Bangladesh and New Zealand, but we’re not on them. We’re on the Amtrak Southwest Chief, which goes from Chicago to LA and then back again, I suppose. It’s the same train I took just a few weeks ago from Chicago to KC - this is my first sleeping car experiment, though.

I suppose you could spend 35 hours in a coach seat. They are actually quite roomy – much more so than an airline – much wider, and even my 5’10”ish frame (I’ve begun to shrink, in my middle age) can stretch out my legs. But if you’re a tummy sleeper, you can’t flip over (well you probably could, but I don’t want to witness it), and of course there’s a lot of comings and goings and the electric doors between cars are clattery. And let’s just hope that the people across the aisle are as sleepy as you, not to mention as well mannered and, well, clean. You could easily be across the aisle from a farter, a coupling under a blanket (or not), a colicky child, a cell phone loud talker, a snorer - it begins to boggle the mind, the opportunities.

Or get the sleeping car. It’s cozy. Really really cozy. Hopefully you and your roomette mate will communicate well and resolve conflict easily. Hayden was relegated to the upper bunk – she compared it to NASA which I thought was amusing and so imagined she was amused – turns out that was not the case, and I thank her for not making a scene. Not that there was going to be much debate, because I sure as hell wasn’t folding myself up for that. So a good sport badge for the offspring.

Bring hand sanitizer. Just seems like the thing to do. I’m not a big chemical potion fan – I’m a believer in the low-tech homegrown antibody remedies – but the sinks are odd – the high pressure faucets blast the water out at you, even knocking your little Dixie cup clean out of your hand. Plus you are literally in the water closet – about the size of a small one – and the sooner you are free the happier you’ll be.

Bask in social opportunities. That’s actually something I like about the train - every meal in the dining car you are facing someone you’ve never met, and hopefully you’ll have a gratifying conversation – I find my personal record is about 50/50. (I can’t attest for theirs). Like the sweet Brit widows from this morning, or the elderly black woman who ran track with Wilma Rudolph, or the lanky Australian architect from a trip or two ago. Ok, lunchtime yesterday was with a pair of Texans which was opportunity lost, if you ask me. He was missing an eye, no kidding, and the accents were so strong, and could they talk any slower? And he had the corniest sense of humor and her eyebrows were painted on a good ½ inch higher than the originals. And they were from Texas, as if that wasn’t explanation enough.

I find train travel peaceful and relaxing. You have to sit on your ass and amuse yourself, so you read and you write and you play cards and you listen to music and you gaze upon the ever-changing scenery. You open your curtain at night and see the billions of stars over Arizona that you don’t see at home because of the urban lights. You recognize the constellations.

The populated landscapes are not always the most scenic, because let’s face it, there’s a train track 10 yards away. So don’t judge a town by the row of houses (such as they are) that you see from the train.

I’m guessing it might average about the same amount of time it would take to drive although that might be optimistic. The KC to Chicago trip is only about 60% of the drive time, the KC to St Louis is about 60% longer. You might be late, for all sorts of reasons – floods and electrical failure on the crossing lights were two examples from this trip. But hey, shit happens when you drive, too. Cheaper than flying, but not by much – certainly not if you add the sleeping car (very pricey. One way train trip with sleeping car cost more than 5 nights of LA hotel – ergh). But you can get up, walk around, meet some people, get waited on in the dining car where all the meals were acceptable if not actually tasty (Myrna the waitress was adorable although Pat was surly), and sit in the Ob car and figure out what stop you’re at. Jose our room attendant was a charming fellow (“Pull the lev-ah!”) with whom we bonded to the point of discussing how the toilet training of his two-year-old son was progressing. Yes, boys do take longer.

Take the train. If the lack of privacy and the forced socialization gets to you, put on your headphones. And sit and watch the world go by.