.
After much plotting and planning we decided to save a few bucks and have an adventure by taking the train out to Phoenix, AZ. Actually, the train only skims Arizona on the northern side by way of Flagstaff. On the southern part of Arizona,Tucson was another possibility, but takes almost a week to get there. We decided that three days on the train would be GREAT and that we would just rent a car and drive to Paradise Valley. But first, the fight.
.
We parked the car at the Charleston Airport and got a taxi to the depot. I had read that the depot on MacCorkle Ave. was not a great place for your car to wait on your arrival a week later. hmmm. red flag # 1. Upon walking into the depot it looked deserted. Almost. There was a older man slouched over in a seat by the door and a younger man with a duffel bag and a neck tattoo talking on his phone. The older man had a leather pouch/flask around his neck. He was passed out. I preferred to think of him as taking a nap. The guy in the office said the train was running behind, so we sat down and waited. He offered us a deal on an 'upgrade' to a deluxe bedroom. These are the berth/rooms with their own bathroom and shower. Think cruise ship bathroom, and squeeze that together. We jumped at the chance. When we had originally booked the trip, all the rooms like this had been sold out, and at that time I had thought that riding in coach would be just fine since we were only riding about 12 hours. We jumped at the chance and got the room. When we sat down the office guy proceeded to get on his phone and we heard him say: "Why aren't you texting me back?" as he went into a back room. Red flag #2.
.
Tattoo guy had been digging around in his duffel bag and had containers of pills he was shaking around while he tried to start a conversation with Rafe. Leather pouch guy continued to 'sleep'. He got out the words: " I came down here to visit a friend and ended up getting two stents in my heart...." when a big greasy haired guy burst through the doors and shouted : "Where's my f****key???".
The tattoo guy and his 'friend' yelled back and forth as they circled around each other. I kept my eyes on the Amtrak Schedule book and proceeded to study all of the westbound routes. As I whispered to Rafe to keep his eyes down I noticed that he was rolling up his booklet into a pseudo-rolling pin / eco-friendly billy club. I had bad visions of him getting mouthy with these guys and then somehow getting caught in the ruckus by pouncing up off the chair to take them both down with upper cuts. Super Rafee. He continued eyeballing them as the greasy hair guy took a swing at tattoo neck and missed. Strike one. Red flag #3.
.
Thankfully the 'sexting' office guy came out and settled things down. He told them the law was coming. Greasy hair said he would change his locks and he split. Tattoo guy went out for a quick smoke before the policeman showed up. Leather pouch guy continued to 'sleep'. The policeman asked the office guy if everything was ok and didn't even fully come into the depot. Red flag #4. A few more people ambled into the depot and shared their own drama, via cellphone. At this point I realized that the Jerry Springer show probably wasn't staged and that he was a true pioneer in reality tv. I also realized that had I kept my original seating reservation, that I too would be sharing their reality, along with the coach seating arrangement. All 12 hours worth. The loud steel horse roared in at 9:20, about and hour late. The office guy kicked the boots of leather pouch guy to wake him. He gave him the option of buying a ticket or moving on. He decided to move on. Customers with sleeper cars are referred to as First Class, and the office guy led us to a different boarding around outside. I did look back as we were highstepping it behind the guy to the front of the train. I saw some others lingering around the front of the depot. Some "ladies" had apparently gathered by the front entrance. We stepped on a stool and were directed to berth A.
We crammed our two rolling backpacks into the L-shaped space and turned out the lights as we watched the city lights outside roll by. When we reached Huntington the attendant converted the couch into a less than full sized futon bed. I decided that we needed to leave the curtains open. We had two large lower windows and upper windows. I thought this was akin to leaving your balcony door open while staying at the beach or on a cruise. The rail between Charleston and Indianapolis can be a bit rough with periods of very bright lights that seem very close to the rail. Think school bus on an unpaved road with police spotlights directed your way every so often. At 6:00 we reached Indianapolis. We decided to get up and see what was for breakfast. All first class passengers are given breakfast, lunch and dinner in the dining car. Most meals are reservation only, but breakfast is first come first serve. All meals have community seating. What red flag number am I on??
.
There was a woman and a one man slinging the hash in the kitchenette. She was shoving frozen meal foil trays into a convection - microwave type oven. When we sat down Rafe ordered the french toast. A lady and her son were seated begrudgingly across from us. She actually asked the sever/cook/bouncer lady if she was really supposed to sit with us. I'm not adding any more red flags.
.
This trip from Charleston to Chicago was not an indication of how the rest of the trip would go. I will note that the lady had her hair in a huge turban/hoodie thing, she was sporting tatts on her upper arms and....golden teeth. Ok, a couple of gold teeth, but 'golden teeth' sounds alot better. Her son was in third grade. We talked with him about the passing landscape and windmills. They were headed for the Big Easy. He didn't eat his oatmeal and his mama looked liked she had been tricked into going back to school for the duration of her breakfast. She didn't talk to him the entire time but just plowed through her oatmeal and fruit. I had raisin bran and a croissant. Rafe's french toast were more like the fish sticks of the french toast world. They came with two turkey sausage patties...which he avoided like the red flags they surely were. We wobbled back to our berth and enjoyed watching the scenery pass by. I must say the the rail yards in most of the cities seem to be in dicey run down areas. Did I know this already? Were train hobos dangerous people? We pulled, or really backed into Union Station in Chicago around 10:30 a.m. It is a wonderfully grand old station that had more of a mall feel to it. It was at this junction that the population and feel of the trip went 180°. From tatts to Mennonite caps.
No comments:
Post a Comment