Hear My Train A-Comin'
My first experience on the railroad
Once upon a time, the railroad was the main form of transportation in America. It still is in Europe and parts of Asia, but the time of the railroad has mostly passed in America. Since the automobile became available for the average American, the train has slowly wanted and almost disappeared. It remains, however, and continues to have its patrons.
Until just recently, I had never taken the train before. I’d thought about it many times, but I never actually bought a ticket and got on a train. Recently, I traveled down to Ohio with a relative to see my grandfather over the Thanksgiving holiday, and I decided rather than drive back, I would take the train, just to see what it was like. I’m pleased to say that I enjoyed it.
First of all, the train was late. Five hours late. I have been assured that this almost never happens, at least not to that degree, and they were kind enough to send me a text message to let me know that the train was late leaving Chicago. my grandfather and I arrived at the station later that morning. The attendant scanned the QR code on my digital ticket, asked two questions about my bags, and I was good to go. No extensive search, no interrogation, I didn’t have to practically disrobe; just two questions. Once the train arrived, the conductors asked for my name, and it was all aboard. I’m pleased to report that the conductors still wear those nice, blue uniforms with the flat-topped caps just like they do in old Western movies.
The ride was bumpy. if you’ve never taken a train before and are thinking about travelling by train on your next vacation, be aware that it rocks back and forth and occasionally hits some bumps, particularly in the wintertime. This wasn’t a problem for me until I need to get up and move, or eat, or use the loo. I would definitely like to take this trip again in the spring or autumn. The scenery out my window was quite breathtaking. I saw lakes, rivers, forests, and farm lands.
Most of the passengers were either black or Amish. A rather atypical combination of ethnic groups, but this is America. We’re a country of misfits; people you wouldn’t ordinarily put together. The castoffs. I know it’s kind of passe now, but I still believe in the “American Creed”. Seeing these very different groups of people together and being able to interact with them was both amusing and a bit encouraging to me. We may just make it.
I spent much of the trip reading one of Robert E. Howard’s Conan stories, specifically, Xuthal of the Dark, and when I got bored of that, I opened up my Bible to the book of Judges. Why Judges? Why not? Judges is essentially a book of adventure stories where people get themselves into desperate straits due to their own foolishness and have to be rescued by a hero of epic proportions. It’s everything I love about sword and sorcery.
Anyhow, when I went to lunch, I had an interesting interaction with the man working the lunch counter. He was a young black man, maybe in his early 20s. He told me what a privilege it is to work on the railroad and how thankful he was for the job after living on the streets of Boston. He then tried to recruit me to work for Amtrak. Honestly, I’m tempted. It sounds like it might be a great job. I may just apply.
As I was returning to my seat, I was waylaid by an older Amish man and his two small children. The man needed to use my phone to call his ride in Syracuse and let them know he would be late. I don’t know why he spoke to me, maybe because I have an honest face and he could sense another country man unaccustomed to large crowds of people. The man’s name was Miller— given that he was Amish, this came as no surprise. After making his phone call, he politely returned my cellphone to me and went on about his business. A moment later, he asked to borrow it again to call his son. I gladly let him do just that. Some Amish people do own phones, which they can only use in what are known as “phone shanties” which are just little shacks away from the main dwelling. After leaving a message in Pennsylvania Dutch, he returned my phone, and, raising his hands in a gesture of apology for taking my time, said “And that is it”. He gave me a broad grin and bade me a safe journey before walking away. I waved at the two small children traveling with him, as they were unable to speak English. The little girl raised her hand as though she was asking a question and stared at me wide-eyed as though she’d never seen an Englishman (that is what the Amish call outsiders) before. Mr. Miller’s son called me the next day, apparently having not listened to his father’s message and I asked after his welfare. Miller apparently made to his son’s home safely.
I sometimes envy the Amish; living simply in the countryside. the way they have done for the last few centuries. No phones. No internet, unless they absolutely need it. Self-sufficient. But I know it’s not all it’s cracked up to be; farming is hard work. Amish life and traditions can be harsh. Electricity is nice, as is indoor plumbing. There are a lot of modern conveniences I enjoy; I would just rather live without the abomination of AI and the constant encroaching of evil technocrats slowly strangling us with their digital menace.
Anyhow, after many hours of travel, I finally arrived at Albany station, where I met my father for the final leg of the journey home. If you ever travel to Albany train station, bear in mind that it is enormous and rather confusing. Or perhaps I was just disoriented by my long journey and rather tired. Either way, I had to ask directions to the baggage claim twice. When I finally found it, it was closed. A fear crept over me; I had packed almost every pair of trousers I own in that bag, plus some irreplaceable things. I didn’t relish the thought of returning home trouserless. However, the baggage claim office opened, and I retrieved my belongings none the worse for the wear.
In all, it was a pleasant trip and I look forward to another adventure on the American railroad.
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