Train Travel, December. 2013

Good morning!

I arrived home at nine last night after a train trip up and back to Concord, CA. to visit my son Ben for Christmas. 

I'll just record a few impressions gathered along the way.

Train travel is much less charged with anxiety than air travel.  Doesn't make much sense, given the gruesome reports we've lately had from crashes in the news...but it's the truth: as soon as that smooth roll-out begins in the station, you can just feel the spirit of pleasure spread throughout the train.  People just relax, and look around them with the happy anticipation of children.

Amtrak has improved its service, by and large, since I was last on the train fifteen years ago.  There's more communication, and more politeness. Of course, the last time I went it was on the Southwest Chief, and who knows if it's still bad on there...

This was a Pacific coast trip, and people were trying very hard to keep things efficient and happy.
The first part of my journey, toward the north, was very well managed. The shift from one train to another in LA was well managed with a cheerful Mexican people-mover driver who shuttled me rapidly to a good lounge with coffee, breakfast (if a commercial muffin is a breakfaast)...and newpapers.  And as promised he came back to get me when my train was due and whisked me to my roomette, where I spent most of the day.

I ate lunch early since I'd been up since four, and had a pleasant meal of salad and chile and blood-orange sorbet. The quality of the meal was about that of a Denney's, I'd say, but clean and quite edible.  After lunch the attendant in my car made my roomette into a bed, and I snoozed for three hours, more or less, before arising. He made the bed back into chairs for the rest of the trip, and when I decided that I didnt want to hazard the 3-car trip to the diner again, he brought me my chosen supper of a child's meal (Kosher hot dog), mashed potatoes, and string beans, plus more sorbet as they were out of the vanilla pudding.  It was dark by then and I gazed out the window till the train arrived in Martinez and Ben picked me up.

Coming home was another story, as my mother would have had it.  I chose the confused inland route because it gets one home three hours earlier than the direct one. Don't ask me why; I dont understand it. You get a morning's ride in a coach car, a one-p.m. change to a bus, with arrival at blase Union Station at four, and another train ride from there at five until eight.

When I got to Santa Fe Station in San Diego at eight, I found that my bag had preceded me.  It was inside in the waiting room already. I am still puzzled about that. How can it be?  If my bag, which was accepted onto the same train in Martinez that I rode on, how could it have eluded el bos and arrived in San Diego earlier than eight? And if it could, and it obviously did, why shouldnt I be enabled to follow the same route? Curiouser.

The only hitch in the whole works is that I was already tired by the time I was in LA. It was a pleasure to see the Union Station again, always a place of interest, but it was only by my own initiative and not waiting to be called as they told me, that I was able to grab my own people-mover and be taken to my train on time.  But carrying my ten-ton purse around is difficult, and the extra handbag though light is another preoccupation. So by the time I was on the train to SD, I was very tired.  I'd made a chicken sandwich in Concord, to bring along, and a very nice lady on the train gave me a burrito (small) that she'd made in her kitchen in Richmond, so I was adequately fed.  On the rushing stop-and-start Surfliner train from LA to SD, the attendant gave me a bag with lots of little snack packages, and my choice of water, soda, or wine. I chose water.

Upon arrival, I was told that my bag would be inside perhaps and that I would get it and the taxi afterward...I was the last person from my train to look for a taxi, and there was one man left.  He was cheerful and an efficient driver, and got me home by nine.  Thus concluded my train journey.

The only real question in all this is ME. Do I have the endurance that it takes for an all-day battle with my possessions, my physical limitations (having to go to the bathroom), my reluctance to use the train stairs or go too many cars to the food car...do I??? In general, though, I'd say that the service on Amtrak was very good, and that the people on board in general were polite, relaxed, and happier than fliers.  YAZZYBEL