I am currently on the California Zephyr, a train that seems concerned with staying connected to the track only 30% of the time. The rest of the time we go careening through the air — to hell with the that carefully laid track! — which also sends me careening through the air as I make my way to the observation car. (As I forged ahead past rows of people, I had these horrible foreshadows of my flailing palm greeting the face of a fellow traveler, my fist grasping hair instead of armrest. Ah, the intimate bond between passengers). The Zephyr runs from Chicago, IL, to Emeryville, CA, and I’m traveling the whole line. The whole trip takes about 2 days, so luckily I am getting off the train and spending Tuesday night with my grandparents in Denver.
The Zephyr, despite challenging my notions of gravity and the stability of my stomach, is quite a lovely train, far superior to the Lake Shore Limited that I took from Albany to Chicago. It’s double-decker and the seats are more spacious, with footrests included! (Thank heavens, because my footrestless ovenight on the Lake Shore left me cranky and with the stiff hip of a senior citizen). The obervation car is quite sunny and spacious, with big picture windows and smaller windows on the ceiling so that you hardly need any of those gross yellow train lights at all. So environmentally friendly! How green of you, Amtrak.
There is also an actual dining car, just like in North by Northwest or The Lady Vanishes. You have to make reservations and there are tablecloths and real china on the table! It’s enchanting to me! You’d think I’d never been anywhere at all, but I am amazed and don’t care. I may even splurge and have a fancy-pants train dinner on the 30+ hour ride between Colorado and California.
For now, though, I sit in the observation car typing away the time. I have been thoroughly enjoying reading books without the pending pressure of a paper deadline, but I’m getting slightly depressed by the novel I brought along (Family Pictures by Sue Miller. Decent read, but a little somber for my present tastes), so I started my Sherlock Holmes short stories. I’ve never read Sherlock Holmes, but I did recognize the first mystery from an episode of Wishbone, so clearly I am off to a good start (or I was a really terrible English major). However, the aforementioned lurching through the fields of Illinois has made reading a disagreeable activity currently, so I turned to something else I haven’t done for my own pleasure since college: writing. Which leads to my one complaint about the Zephyr: the utter lack of electrical outlets. Due to a sketchy computer battery, my options include staring out the window for the entire 18 hour trip (echoes from my childhood of Sunday drives with my mother — “Why aren’t you looking at the scenery? That’s what the trip is for! When I was a kid I loved this!”), getting sick all over poor Dr. Watson, or sitting outside of the toilets in the sketchy downstairs area where I found a lone outlet.
It doesn’t really matter, honestly. Yes, being computer-less can be frustrating, but whatever. I admit I am thoroughly taken in by the romance and adventure of it all. With my sweatpants and rumpled hair, I do not look quite as put-together as Eva Marie Saint, but that’s all right (I was never going to anyway). Traveling by rail is the last relaxed method of transportation in this country. Driving is decidedly the most dangerous, no argument there. You try to ride your bike and all you hear are stories of people getting hit by cars. And everyone is familiar withe stress of air travel, worst of which is the encouraged suspicion among passengers, as if 9/11 happened because no one was paying enough attention.
On a train, you chuck your baggage in a rack downstairs with a blind understanding that it will be there the next morning — and it is! You can leave your laptop sitting there with your friendly fellow passenger and it will still be there when you return from the smelly train bathroom. I enjoy the freedom of a train. A 9-hour flight to Europe will drive you batty when you’re strapped to your airplane seat, but the train offers options, rooms for heaven’s sake. And views to rival any mode of transportation.
