I am typing this as I take my very first Amtrak ride, and I am feeling very grateful to be here, safe and sound and aboard what I’m pretty sure is the correct train, bound for Chicago. I am going to “Carmen” tonight at the Lyric, but because it’s spring break I wanted to spend at least part of the day in the Big City- but I was on my own to get there since Marshall couldn’t get away until late afternoon. Driving myself just didn’t sound like fun, but Metra’s schedule does not work out very well. And then just last night, this little voice in my head said “Amtrak” – and here I am!
Actually, Kathy deserves most of the credit for me being on this train at all. First of all, I am easily confounded when it comes to ordering things off of websites. (Even Amazong, which I should have fully mastered by now, still trips me up and necessitates at least one s.o.s. directed to my eternally patient wife.) I manage most of it, but am always scared to death that I’m going to accidentally order six tickets to Walla Walla, Washington for six weeks ago – so I usually defer to Kathy before any money changes hands. She completed the transaction last night- I printed up the invoice- and was all set to catch my 1:23 Hiawatha line to Chicago.
Or so I thought. When I drove up to the train station at 1:02 (REALLY early by my standards) there was nothing there at all resembling a depot. There was no sign of the electronoic kiosk where I was supposedto convert my invoice into a ticket. Not a single sign saying Amtrak. Just a big empty parking lot beside some train tracks. Worriedly, I grabbed my cell phone and called Kathy, who (somewhat) patiently to me that I was standing where the train stop used to be until they built the beautiul new depot about ten years ago. As soon as she said that, I knew exactly what she was talkng about and high-tailed it over the new depot, which was maybe a mile and a half away. Then it was a matter of deciphering the instructions for gaining entry into the parking lot (the original directions were covered over by hand-written new directions that caused more confusion than clarity) but $4 and 2 minutes later I was parked and on my way to the depot. My interaction with the ticket kiosk was much simpler and in a matter of seconds I had a brand new ticket printed up and ready to go.
Last matter— Which track? Kathy reminded me of an unfortunate mistake her Aunt Linda made at the end of one of her last visits, when she elected to take Amtrak back to St. Louis. I wasn’t there, but someone she and Kathy’s dad got mixed up and Linda stood on the wrong side of the tracks – and she cheerfully boarded the first train that came along, not realizing that it was a northbound train headed to Milwaukee. I don’t know what her first clue was- it may have been when she saw a stadium looming in the distance that said “Home of the MIlwaukee Brewers” rather than “Home of the Chicago Cubs.” That proved to be a rather costly little side trip. Anyway, thanks to that cautionary tale from Aunt Linda – plus the fact that the tracks are just labeled Track 1 and Track 2 (not “northbound” and “southbound”, or “Milwaukee” and “Chicago”) that gave me this very queasy sense of how easily I might end up on the wrong train. Fortunately, there were about seven other people there, also bound for Chicago….. and although none of us had ever ridden Amtrak before, someone somehow had figured out where we should stand. And sure enough- at 1:21, a voice came over the speakers announcing that the train bound for Chicago would be boarding on Track 2, the track closest to the depot. Still, it wasn’t until I climbed aboard, settled into my seat, and heard a soothing voice say “next stop, Glenview, Illinois) that I could settle into my seat and relax, confident that I would not end up disembarking in Duluth, Minnesota . . or worse yet, Anchorage, Alaska!
Lest I sound like a total country bumpkin, I should say that I have ridden a lot of trains in my life, but never Amtrak – and never a ride longer than Kenosha/Chicago. But this little ride has just underscored what a lovely way this is to travel- and it makes me anxious for the day when Kathy and I will feel like we have the time to travel this way. It’s much much better for the environment than flying, it’s much more comfortable than flying, and you’re actually on the ground where there’s really something meaningful to see. And this week of all weeks, I found myself so deeply appreciative of how restful a train ride is. There’s something so soothing about that gentle throb that only a train ride has- and when the headlines are screaming of nuclear meltdowns, recall petitions, and the possible elimination of NPR funding- and the local paper has the obituary of a 54-year-old friend who has just died of cancer- and when you feel a case of laryngitis coming on . . . then happiness is a simple train ride.
pictured above: the Amtrak train pulls into Union Station in downtown Chicago. Something about this photo reminds me of downtown Seattle and of riding a wonderful little shuttle train that runs between the Space Needle and downtown. Kathy and I rode that with my brother Steve and our nephew Henry, and we made sure to ride in his favorite spot- at the very front of the train.
pictured below: the curtain call for that night’s performance of Bizet’s “Carmen” at the Lyric Opera of Chicago.
