For Easter weekend, I took Amtrak home. I caught the train at Union Station at 7:30 PM and rode it all the way to my hometown Florence, South Carolina to arrive at 3:30 AM. A train ride is a totally different experience from flying. To begin with there are little pre-ride preparations unlike pre-flight preparations. You don’t go through a metal detector, there is no cost for checking baggage, they don’t check IDs, and you can get on the train approximately 2 minutes before it’s “all aboard.”
When I settled into my seat, I was amazed at the roominess of it. In fact, it was so roomy that my seatmate decided to plop her stuffed purse on the area of my seat that my posterior was not occupying. When you’ve been pushed around on flights as much as I have, you begin to become territorial about your area. I’ve had larger than life men ask me to sit between them rather than in my window seat, because I was the smallest of us. I’ve had some seatmates nudge me out of my paid seat, so they could have a seat and a half to themselves. Now, I buck right back, and, in this situation, I put my posterior on her purse. She said, “Oh my, is that in your way?” I replied, “No, you can leave it there, but I’ll just have to sit on it. . .hardy har.” I said it as pretty as you like, and then she moved it. We got along fine the rest of the ride.
Oh my, what a cast of characters on that train!? There was the lady who looked strung out on crystal meth with her 12 year old daughter in tow. The meth mommy had a teardrop tattoo below the corner of her eye. In the dining car, she was banging back the Budweisers and buying rounds for two, young guys. It was apparent the daughter was the caretaker and mother of that duo. Poor kid. I hope the daughter gets a chance in this lottery of a life we all play.
Wowsa, and then, my most favorite. . . the lady sitting catty corner to me. She was chatty with what had to be the most patient woman I’ve ever witnessed, because this lady in the catty corner was saying the craziest nothings. Her shirt was the best thing ever, though. I still double over in a fit of giggles over it. It was a large, black tee shirt with two of the Seven Dwarves on it. They were Grumpy and Dopey. The shirt read, “I’m Grumpy, because You’re Dopey.” Pretty good stuff, right? I think the weirdest thing that came out of her mouth was the keeping place of her mother’s remains. She said her mother was cremated and that the urn was at her sister’s house. They keep the urn on the TV, so her mother can hear it, because she’d always been real hard of hearing.
I then dozed off and arrived in Florence in the wee hours of the morning.
The return ride was much better. It was during the day, so I could look out the window and enjoy the scenery. It’s rural America, and it’s pretty in a worn-out, small town sort of way. The little girl beside me was a hoot and a holler. She was reading a Schwan’s catalog and was faintly whispering out loud what she was reading. If you need to know, Schwan’s appetizers are on sale. She seemed to want some of my Jelly Bellys. She kept looking at them longingly, but I figured, with the whole never take candy from a stranger bit, that I shouldn’t offer.
I spent a lot of the return trip sitting at a booth in the dining car. I turned it into a makeshift office, and did some work. I can’t tell you how nice it is to be able to plug in your tech gadgets. Too bad you can’t get wifi on the train.
All in all, I’d take the train again, but I’d take it during daylight, and I would not want to ride it further than Florence.
