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Pop Goes The World Joann Ware
I was meeting some friends for a cross country t rek to Minnesota this past July. The seven of us were coming from all parts of the U.S. so we decided to meet up in Chicago and take a rental car to our destination in the southwest corner of Minnesota.
The flights I found were all too rich for my pocket book, but I found a cheap train fare on Amtrak from Staunton to Chicago that left at 2:54 p.m. on July 17 and arrived in Chicago the next morning at 10. I was not crazy about the long travel time, but I figured I’d be asleep for most of it. If I’m tired enough, I can sleep anywhere, I told myself.
When I arrived at the Staunton depot that hot Wednesday afternoon, I checked my phone. There was a text from Amtrak letting me know that the train was delayed a half an hour but it would probably make up the time during the trip so that my arrival time would still be the same.
During the wait at the open air depot, the heavens opened up and rain poured down. Even though I was under shelter, I got soaked when the winds picked up.
The only other person boarding the train was a petite lady with strawberry blond hair who had taken this trip before. She was a native of Chicago and had been visiting her son in Keezletown. She obviously knew what she was doing when the train chugged into the station and made sure she was the first to board. She nabbed the window seat and I had to settle with the seat on the aisle.
Half the car was filled with Amish people from Lancaster, Pa. Not long after I boarded, one of the Amish men began a discussion with a Muslim passenger from Cairo, Egypt, about their religious beliefs. The conversation never got heated, but they were speaking loudly enough for everyone else in that section of the train to hear. I wasn’t the only one perturbed by their discourse; I saw several people swivel around in their seats with pained expressions on their faces.
Finally the debate ended, and I chose to soothe my frayed nerves with a little something from the bar car. I had this preconceived notion that the bar car was going to be a fancy little hideaway with a mahogany bar and a barkeep behind it dressed in a red vest, white oxford shirt with French cuffs and a bow tie. Instead I saw a sweaty guy behind a plexiglass partition microwaving cheeseburgers. I ordered a pinot grigio, which came in a half-size bottle. Passengers on Amtrak are supposed to consume their alcoholic beverages in the bar car, but all the seats were taken. I took the wine back to my seat and no one said a word to me, except for my seatmate who wanted to know how much I paid for the pinot.
I relaxed with the wine and took in the scenery. West Virginia was by far the prettiest part of the train trip. I saw so many beautiful waterways and mountain views.
The bathroom was not too far from my seat. Using the bathroom on a train is a little like being inside a can of paint being mixed at a hardware store. And though the bathroom was fresh and clean at the start of the trip, by the end it looked like Times Square on New Year’s Day.
Soon darkness fell and the passengers began to get into bedtime mode. I had brought a neck pillow and earplugs to help ease me into sleep. Despite the fact that the seat reclined, I never did get comfortable enough to get any rest. This was not a problem for the other passengers given the amount of snoring going on after lights out.
I saw many cities and towns under the cover of darkness as I stayed awake while the others snoozed. Cincinnati appeared to be a city of lights that glittered at night. In Indianapolis, I saw Lucas Oil Stadium, home of the Colts.
We were still in Indiana as the sun began to rise. I think I became so bored of seeing backyards that I began to drift off around 6 a.m. but I was jerked awake a few times by the sound of the train whistle.
When I heard the conductor say that we were at the end of the line – Chicago, Illinois – I was about to leap for joy, but was too exhausted to do so. After disembarking from the train, I waved to my seatmate as she disappeared among the Chicagoans bound for their homes. I carried my suitcase up two escalators and emerged in an area with a stunning view of the Willis Tower. The weather was beautiful and much cooler than it had been in Virginia when I left. I sat for a while and let the wind cool me down before I took a cab to meet my friends at their hotel near O’Hare.
I have taken Amtrak before. It’s great for short trips, but perhaps not so much for long excursions, unless you’re in a sleeper car, and those berths can be a bit pricey. The train trip prefaced a marvelous adventure, one that I will recall for many years until my brain turns to mush.
