I love Amtrak.
I’m not exactly sure why.
It seldom leaves on time and apparently considers its arrival time more of a suggestion than a commitment.
I once had the option of traveling from Virginia to Williston, North Dakota. I could fly there in about three hours with one stop.
Or I could take Amtrak.
Forty-two hours.
Seventy-eight stops.
Virginia to Washington. Washington to Chicago. Chicago to Williston.
Naturally, I took the train.
Maybe Amtrak works for me because I’ve always needed to be moving. Even as a baby, I’d get on all fours in my crib and bang my head against the headboard.
On Amtrak, I don’t even have to do that.
I just sit there and the train provides the motion for the next 42 hours.
Twice as Much Amtrak for the Same Price
One February, I was traveling from Chicago to Williston. The trip was supposed to take about 12 hours.
Somewhere along the way, the train hit a large rock on the tracks. The train bounced, smashed the front light, and suddenly our 12-hour trip was going to take closer to 24.
The passengers in the lounge car were pissed.
I tried to cheer everybody up.
“Guys, look at it this way. You’re getting twice as much Amtrak for the same price.”
Didn’t go over particularly well.
Looking to Rekindle Your Romance?
If you’re thinking about taking a romantic Amtrak trip to reignite your relationship, I have some advice.
Don’t book a roomette.
During the day, it’s actually quite nice. You sit facing each other, watching America roll by.
It’s perfect for improving communication.
Then night comes.
The seats become beds.
The lower bunk has roughly the headroom of two MRIs.
The upper bunk has the headroom of one MRI.
Whoever loses the coin toss gets the upper bunk.
Now imagine waking up at 2:00 in the morning needing to use the toilet. You climb down something resembling monkey bars while the train rocks from side to side at 70 miles an hour.
You may want to purchase travel medical insurance.
Dinner With an Invisible Woman
One of my favorite things about Amtrak is the community seating in the dining car. You meet fascinating people, and many of the employees have been riding the rails for 20 or 30 years.
Whenever I meet someone who’s had an interesting job that long, I ask the same question:
“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?”
One longtime Amtrak employee didn’t hesitate.
There was a passenger who always reserved two seats.
But only one person ever showed up.
He was traveling with his invisible wife.
At every meal, he ordered for both of them.
Two breakfasts.
Two lunches.
Two dinners.
When his wife’s meal inevitably went uneaten, he’d say something like:
“Honey, looks like you’re not going to finish that.”
Then he’d ask for a to-go box and take her meal back to their room.
Three meals a day.
For a seven-day cross-country trip.
I had only one question.
Did she pay full fare?
The Bleeding Samsonite
I also have another piece of Amtrak advice:
If at all possible, don’t check your luggage.
Carol and I took the train from Florida to Savannah.
We had made what we considered an excellent financial decision.
Why pay Amtrak prices for glasses of Merlot and Chardonnay when we could bring our own?
So we carefully wrapped bottles in paper towels and packed them inside our suitcases, surrounded by sweaters, slacks and underwear.
What could possibly go wrong?
At our departure station, I went to the restroom.
While I was gone, Carol checked the bags.
When we arrived in Savannah, a conductor built roughly like a sumo wrestler loaded the luggage onto a cart, rolled it onto the platform and began unloading it onto the concrete.
Then our Samsonites hit.
Click. Click.
Oh, shit.
We grabbed the bags and started rolling them toward the terminal.
That’s when I noticed the blood.
Red wine was leaking from a 26-inch Samsonite, leaving a trail and eventually a nice puddle in the middle of the station.
I quickly rolled the patient into the men’s room and attempted to stop the bleeding.
The Samsonite was in critical condition.
Fortunately, security didn’t happen to walk through at that moment.
Otherwise, explaining why my luggage was bleeding all over the Amtrak station might have resulted in a completely different kind of trip.
All Aboard
And yet, after all of that, I still love Amtrak.
Because if you really want to see America, there’s nothing quite like it.
By plane, you see America from gate to gate.
By car, you see America from rest area to rest area.
By train, you sit back and watch cities, farms, mountains, rivers and small towns roll past your window while somebody else worries about the driving.
And occasionally you meet a man traveling across the country with his invisible wife.
Just don’t worry too much about the schedule.
If your 10-hour trip takes 24 hours, remember:
You’re getting more Amtrak for the same price.
All Aboard!
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