Train Ride: Priceless

As my internet connections are sketchy, I am (finally) posting that which have been sitting in “draft” waiting to be sent out into the Blogosphere… Oh, how I have missed the zinging sensation of clicking on that little orange “publish” button… Yes, I am a junkie of the worst kind…


Dear Friends;

I am currently experiencing my very first real train ride. From Boston to Albany. And I have to say, I love it.

The ride is surprisingly smooth and quiet. The seats are larger than any I have ever seen in first class on a plane, with enough legroom even a basketball player could stretch out. I was able to have both pieces of my luggage fashion as carry-ons and the overhead compartment was more like an opened trunk of any mid-size family car. Even the people who travel on the train seem to be of a different sort. Quieter, more introspective and observant. Most everyone is conversational and softly chatty… (Which, after my experience in Boston and the outlying areas, I am grateful for. Never have I received such a cold shoulder before… Kind of makes a person wonder what makes a whole city so grim and unsocial…)

But the best part is being able to take it all in. To travel in an un-hurried pace. To enjoy all the sights as they pass by the huge windows. No other mode of travel would have exposed me to so many of the things that I have seen cascading by as we propel ever onward down the tracks… I have seen tiny towns and little burroughs, rock walls and bridges with moss and lichen growing on them, a lone fly fisherman in waders in a whirling river. A small waterfall, countless lakes, old churches, forlorn and all but forgotten industry cities that have a population that is less than the college that I attended. And trees. Trees for days… Still all skeletal from the winter with the evergreens pushing up against them, almost as it they were all huddled together for warmth. Giant outcroppings of rocks that just beg to be climbed, even though you just know that they must be slick with wet and slime from the rains. Barns and old Victorian houses, animals, both wild and domesticated… It just goes on and on, like the quiet clicking of the track beneath the wheels of the train.

So there it is… Nostalgic bliss. Almost unused in today’s blustering fast pace. No time to settle in and enjoy the journey… It is all about how fast you get to the destination. Faster, quicker, sooner, now… But doesn’t that leave us wanting in the end? Is that not a part of why we are so dis-satisfied as a social whole? We cheat ourselves out of the little things in pursuit of something great. Did we never stop to think that perhaps having a drink in the dining car with a stranger might lead to a grand adventure or at the very least, a new potential friend? (And yes, I did have a drink in the dining car. And the attendant was a hoot and a half…)

And if all of that was not enough of a push to slow things down from time to time, then you could always think about this:

For me to fly from Boston to Albany I would have to take the Charlie (similar to BART) to the airport. Arrive at the airport 1-2 hours before my flight. Attempt to self check in, in a long, long line. Transfer to a counter with an agent so that I can wait some more to check my bags before I wade through the security maze that is the normal procedure now. Then I would have to wait to board the plane in a craze of cranky people, all grouchy from the rush and bustle. Fight for overhead compartment space and squeeze into my tiny seat. After sitting cramped for 2 hours, I would have to endure being elbowed and jostled to remove my carry-on from overhead and exit the plane to the crowded and noisy airport. Wait another 30 minutes for my luggage, and then make the trek to the far side of the parking lot or wait for what seems like forever, for a shuttle or cab. (Sounds like a blast right? And it only took me about 5 hours… And a couple hundred bucks for the joy of speedy travels…)

For me to take the train from Boston to Albany, I would still need to take the Charlie. But the Train station is closer than the airport. It is also un-crowded and quiet compared to the airport, or even a shopping mall. I go right up to the self-check in stand that has no line. I bypass having to check bags because the requirements are different, but if I did there are fewer than ten people in line and I can check three bags on top of my two carry-ons and laptop case. I have a cup of coffee in the 20 minutes that I needed to arrive early. I sit at a bistro table while I sip my beverage WITH my loved one, who then walks me halfway down the platform when I am called to board. I savor one last hug before I walk on the train car. I select a huge seat by a window and have enough space to stow all of those checked bags that I did not have. More than enough for everyone to be greedy. I ride in virtual quiet and have a meal in the dining car. I note that there are outlets to plug in my laptop at the tables, and several passengers have done just that. No more worries about battery lifespan… I wash my hands in the restroom and observe that it is big enough for 3 or 4 people to have sex in. The water is hot, there is a real mirror. I exit the train in peace because the isles are large and there are numerous exits. I quickly pass though another quiet train station and then make the trek to the far side of the parking lot or wait for what seems like forever, for a shuttle or cab. (And surprisingly, this trip only took 5 hours… Go figure… It was scheduled for 6, but we made up time along the way. Oh, and the ticket price? 25 dollars…)


(picture credit: Trans America II by Ethan Harper)