Rail Warriors

How alien is rail travel to the average American?  In an age of instant everything, how relevant is the passenger train?  Headed to San Francisco from Chicago, with stops in Flagstaff, the Grand Canyon, Vegas and Yosemite, I was about to find out. 

Union Station may be one of a handful of truly grand passenger rail terminals in the United States.  Even restored and beautiful, its Grand Hall lacks its most appealing feature; bustling people. That’s changing.  On a bright sunny September afternoon, a low-grade buzz persistently hums.

A kiosk resembling something you’d see in the Museum of Science and Industry stands in the middle of the sprawling room, giving a touch of modernity to the classicism of marble and stone.   Not a bad place to wait for a train.  Spacious, filled with light, monumental.  But there are places with more comfortable seating; like the Metropolitan Room.  

To think that there will ever be a day when rail could compete with air travel is to dream.  How can a mite challenge a mastodon?  But it’s refreshing to see gumption and Amtrak’s effort to woo customers is to be applauded. Take that Metropolitan Room, Amtrak’s answer to airline clubs.  Electric.  Only open since June of last year, crossing its threshold is like stepping into a Michigan Ave. salon.   Bright, polished, refined, it’s simplicity and mood are an ideal counterbalance to the natural scramble of a major rail terminal.

Airline clubs can have the tendency to sprawl; based on the size of the airport.  As spacious as United’s B terminal club is, at peak times it still feels very tight.  The Metropolitan Room also possesses impressive scale and has been adapted to purpose.  Broken up into sections that flow from room to room, one is scaled to children and separated from the other seating areas.  Upstairs, another expansive space, the Pennsylvania Room, acts as complimentary adjunct.  Large leather couches and arm chairs in neutral grays and beige cover over 2000 square feet of tiered space.  Attractive railway themed artwork adorn the walls.  The mood is one of tranquil serenity and comfort. 

Set up very similarly to their airline rivals, the Metropolitan Room is geared to business and passengers who’ve chosen to elevate their traveling experience by opting for sleeping cars on long journeys.  You can also purchase a day pass for $50.  Showers are available. 

Trips like these, involving trains and 14 days of travel, require daring for those who’ve never done it before. And it requires a relinquishment of the known.  Rail travel is nothing like what we call modern travel.  Similarities end as soon as you raise your foot and place it on the train car.  Toting conventional luggage onto to train is a rookie move if you thought you’d skipped all things rigorous by copping a sleeper.  If you’re in a sleeper car, still think bare bone essentials.  It’s OK to wear the same clothes you wore getting on the train on day one to all your meals on day two.  Nobody cares.  But if you can’t make that stretch, it’s OK too.  Just keep it spartan.  You’ll love not having a piece of standard overhead luggage compete with you for precious inches in a micro-world.

And even on an 80-degree day, the cars can be freezing.  You’ll gaze lustfully at the seasoned pros walking around in fleece, impervious to the frigid breezes rushing through the vents in the observation car.   

Real adventurers are tough.  Otherwise how could they even consider riding coach on an overnight trip. There’s no escape the public eye of fellow travelers.  No way to bathe privately.  No way to not be targeted by the “Just for You” meal directive.   Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables brought to your seat.  Just don’t come to the dining car please.

Sleeping cars are a step up but the step is short.  Think of a sleeping car as a jail cell with amenities in miniature.  There is a shower.  But the shower is in the same closet as the toilet and resembles a pneumatic tube in white.  The shower spray is hand held and effective.  The water is hot.  It’s incomprehensible that sleepers accommodate two.  Rough estimates say that the space is a little wider than it is long.  Bunk beds face a single chair with a window in between.  A tiny sink with a mirror man the entrance.  My dilemma was asking myself whether I would want to shower in front of a toilet when I am not in basic training in the army.  My final answer was no. The tiny basin at the entrance provided enough water to soap, clean and shave the most crucial areas. 

Meals were interesting because the wait staff was interesting.  A steward was overheard saying that he never introduces himself to new employees because they won’t be there six months from now.  If you saw how hard train folks work, you’d understand.  The woman who mans the concession in the lounge car opens it herself at 5am and closes it herself at 11pm.  The dining car staff matches her by having the   the same crew serving all three meals.  Prepping and shut down included.  Even with that weight on their backs, they were all uniformly courteous, humorous, humane and professional.  There was also a touch of madness that peeped between the curtain. 

Even with all the brightness of light in the observation car, you felt a constant grueling exercise in constant flow.

With so much velvet agony aboard the train, you wonder why people seem to love traveling by rail so much.  There I must agree with my fellow traveler from Philly, air travel is dehumanizing.  Most of the people within earshot agreed.  The lines, the herd mentality, the imperviousness, TSA.

 Even after a 15 hour of flight from Australia, you probably won’t know anything about the 200  other people travelling with you.  Trains are different.  You have hours to size up your fellow travelers from a distance.  You can see how they move, how they look at their fellow travelers, how they carry themselves.  You have time to nurture your curiosity. 

It wasn’t until we had had a dinner and an overnight sleep that we felt comfortable enough to accept  new people.  The result, Theresa; a passionate geological enthusiast who can give you a detailed outline of the topography from Colorado and all points west.  And Jerry from Philadelphia who’s been on every line Amtrak runs;  on his way to California to visit family via train for the  999^th time.  The connections were meaningful simply because of the amount of substantive information you gained from casual conversation.   You find out how deeply you can get into a stranger’s life.

Flagstaff proved a pleasant surprise.  On this trip, it was the entrée to the Grand Canyon; a place you never tire of re-knowing.  September is still high tourist season and the park was bubbling with people from around the world.  English speakers formed a small minority in the throngs.

Buses work in tandem with trains when traveling with a group of more than fifty people and they’re infinitely more advanced than you can imagine.  An on-board toilet was expected, but the high caliber speaker system and retractable mesh window shades were not.  Drivers of these behemoths treat them like fine show dogs and keep them gleaming inside and out.  One such chariot picked us up late one night in Flagstaff and became our flying carpet to the Grand Canyon, Vegas and California.