[ home | contact | archive | travel ] Additional Amtrak photo documentation // Moving cross-country

As someone who has travelled long distances by train at least eight times, I have some advice that perhaps you will find useful. A series of fourteen train tips follows (updated June 2013).

1. Why the Hell the Train.
When you travel by train there is practically none of the demeaning bullshit one has to deal with when flying. During my train trips, attendants just wanted to make sure my signature on my driver’s license matched the signature on my ticket which also matched the name printed on the ticket. Sure, it’s the government, they’re pushing those names through their Super Duper Terramist Spotter 2000 computer program, but it’s way better than subjecting yourself to airport nonsense. No one touched my bag -- I could have packed it chok full o’ booze, drugs, illegal immigrants and more drugs [2009 update: “random” searches (at least in Chicago) of unknown intensity make us all feel safer that there’s not a guy with a, I don’t know, pie iron on the train1]. In addition, I like the slow pace of land-based travel, but sometimes the train is travelling zero miles an hour for a long time and you’re thinking to yourself that you could walk to your destination faster which is a lie and you know it is, be realistic here. Anyway, on a train you can get up, stretch your legs, and walk up and down the train cars making furtive eye contact with people who are working on their deep-vein thrombosis projects.

2. Human Tetris.
Unfortunately, there are times when the train car attendant will assign you seating because they want to keep all of the people getting off at the same destination together. Because this is a government operation, there are many styles of keeping track of all you proles, but the one most favored is color-coded strips of card stock with your three-letter destination station written on it. They like playing human Tetris with these strips, they don’t care about nor have time for your needs and wants. Be ready for him/her. Know what you want, read the list below, prioritize, etc. When you are getting on the train, there’s a rush to get everyone seated, especially if the train is full. You (and everyone else) will have at least a big clunky carry-on bag, maybe a supplemental bag of Human Chow (see #10, “Train v. Non-Train Food”), and perhaps five seconds to explain that you have to sit near an outlet (see #9, “Power”). It is a very brief window of opportunity that could greatly influence the amount of suck you have to deal for perhaps the entire trip. If you do get a horrid seat and the train is nearly full, in most cases you can probably get away with switching your seat if you stay within your own grouping so he/she doesn’t flip out and put you back in suckseat (if your card reads “SAC” (Sacramento) for example, stay within your new SAC clan). If you secretly move, move your card as well!2 Also, if you’re lucky, you may not be assigned a seat, just told to sit anywhere in a car ... it depends on the number of people on the train. Since seats are configured in groups of two, you’d also like to have both seats in your configuration, unless you are looking for Train Love (see #12, “Train Love”). There is practically no way to influence the attendant’s decision (they’re in the weeds during boarding, and you’re an Obstacle), but you can try to look unapproachable enough that potential seatmates (usually the last few human Tetris pieces on any particular level) won’t want to sit next to you. Do the thing Alan Abel does on airplanes (these are much faster and cost about the same) to keep people from talking to him: hang a small piece of string out of the corner of your mouth. Inject your own whimsical variations on this, say, keeping only one eye open or talking to an invisible friend named “Jimmy Jam” but is not related to the famous pop/R&B songwriter/record producer of the same name.

3. Train Throat.
A train is basically a sealed box. You can’t open the windows, and the doors between cars open into a short enclosed passageway riddled with inviting buttons and switches. You have no control over the environment -- you don’t even get those little fans that are available on most planes (costs the same, quicker). I don’t know exactly how the Amtrak life-support system works, but it’s probably not far off to assume it’s nearly the same as those on a plane. I’ve read that while in flight you’re exposed to air “drier than a desert.” On a train, it’s the same thing, only ten times longer. You don’t get to trundle off the train for a bit during each stop -- there are stations every one or two hours, but a lot of these are small and there’s no time allocated for anyone to just hang around on the platform. You will be able to do this once every two-four hours, on average. So. Bring a medium-sized bag of lozenges, enough to share with all of the interesting/weird-o people you’ll meet, and at least 1.5 liters of water per day, because you don’t want to drink train water. Occasionally there will be enough time to re-fill your water bottles at the station, so save them. Save them. This is priority one for you, keeping yourself healthy during your travels. I came down with a nasty sore throat on two of my sojourns, it took almost two weeks to get over the last one ... just in time for me to re-board for the return trip. But I was ready. With what? With lozenges and water, didn’t you even read this damned paragraph? Skimmer.

4. Don’t Touch My “Stuff.”
So you’ve got this big rolling case of your valuable ugly clothes, and you’d rather some random jerkoff didn’t walk off with it when they de-trained. Okay. First, you need to get some locks. You don’t have to get those weenie TSA locks, at least, currently ... I’m sure TSA culture will seep entirely into the rail system and eventually our cars and boats. I got some cheapo zipper locks, and a long steel cable from PacSafe. It has this completely non-intuitive “system” to enable you to “choke up” on the cable so it binds the case tightly to whatever you’re locking it to but (A) I always forget how to lock it and (B) when travelling by train, I want a loose cable so I can flip the case around and get to different compartments. So I ignore all the “secure draw wire bead in locking device and then light three candles to summon Eris for protection” junk. There is also a wire mesh thing you can buy from PacSafe but it weighs a ton and makes you look like (A) a jerk (B) you’ve got some REAL GOOD STUFF in your bag.

When you first get on the train, the lower level is all about bathrooms and baggage storage (there’s a small area for lower-level ticket holders ... it’s for people who can’t climb stairs etc). But the baggage storage area doesn’t seem to have anything you can lock your case to. Schlep your bag upstairs to the seating compartment. You can put your bag on the overhead shelf, but then you’ve got to haul it up and down every time you want to change your clothes, put your laptop away when you go on platform breaks, etc. The best thing to do is to find the little empty space that is in each car just forward of the stairwell, behind a row of seats. That’s a nice storage space, has various bars to lock the case to, and is attendant-approved. I can sit down on a little rail there, open up my case, take as much time as I want pawing through my stuff and I’m not in the way of anyone which is another Train Thing That Gets Annoying After Awhile.

5. The Very Young and the Very Old.
They are not like you and me. When you are a young adult, you sleep about two hours a day because you’re hopped up on chemical stimulants, and you are inconsiderate of others because you think the world revolves around you. When you are old, you sleep about two hours a day because you’re kept alive via pharmaceutical supplements, and you are inconsiderate of others because you know the world doesn’t revolve around you but you no longer give a shit. The most extreme datapoints of these two demographics are the Two Chatty Young Women Travelling Together and the Three+ Sheltered Old Men Travelling Alone But Sitting Near Each Other. Avoid these passengers on a train at all costs unless there is an needed electrical outlet nearby (see #9, “Power”). The Chatty Women talk continuously, which is annoying when you want to relax, but if they pace themselves like burbly motorboats, then sometimes your brain can shift the din to the background. The real terror is the Three+ Sheltered Old Men because they don’t sleep and they don’t have normal conversations. They’re completely sporadic: an observation is made, perhaps it is agreed on, then anywhere from two to forty-five minutes pass before the next one. That’s the random non-rhythm your brain will feed on like an indeterminate box of small, enjoyable foreign chocolates3, and you’re never going to relax or get any sleep.

6. Coach v. Sleeper: The Decision is Ea$y.
A sleeper costs approximately three times as much as a seat in coach. Add a private shower (in coach you get no shower), now you’re getting into some serious bills. Have you ever tried to sleep on a train, even in a sleeper? I have, but in foreign countries only. I found it difficult, though I’m talking about lurchy tracks with frequent stops. Perhaps you can take some Ambien to help you sleep then wake up four hours later to find yourself driving the train.

7. Sleeping in Coach: Now You’re Talking My Type of Crazy.
Are there lots of crazy people riding on Amtrak, or does not sleeping for n days make them crazy? I didn’t get to sleep the night before a two-night train ride ... and I didn’t sleep at all on the train. I can fully account for all the hours I spent on the train. This is probably not the best thing for my body, which is a temple (visiting hours 9am-5pm; ask about our “special weekend tours” and group rates).

Oh God Where Do I Sleep Where Do I Sleep

8. The Dressing Room: The Money Room Where It All Happens.
Ignore the dressing room at your peril. It is smaller than the largest bathroom, but kicks it in the throat (its train throat) because it’s got everything you need to get through your day. It is actually two small rooms: a small carpeted area with a seat and coat hooks, along with a smaller toilet/sink area. There are different varieties of dressing rooms: some are not lockable and have a lockable bathroom hidden inside, some have two stools and a big ole’ mirror. Try not to think to yourself that if someone was all gung-ho on Trainsex, this would be Scouting Location Numero Uno.

9. Power.
There are anywhere from zero to many electrical outlets on your modern Amtrak train. These are placed in sporadic, kicky out-of-the-way places. Repeat: there are not outlets for every pair of seats. It’s like a fun game you can play and lose many times as you walk up and down the aisles avoiding eye contact, preparing a mental list of passenger destinations and Outlet Recon missions. The last time I rode Amtrak, my entire car had no outlets, while the car ahead of us had one for each person. While in my first seat during a return trip, there was an outlet on the wall -- inaccessibly parked right behind the armrest4 and an Australian travelling to San Francisco. This sort of outlet is completely unusable unless you were smart and brought one of those flat plugs specially made for travellers unless I’m just making that product up. In the lounge car, I found an outlet on the ceiling and another one hidden under a bench. Later the first day I was able to switch to a seat with a non-obscured outlet. Using a “public” outlet (like those in the lounge car) brings with it the drama of everyone else wanting to use the same outlet and you’re all like “you’re just charging your cellphone, I’m working on the Hendrixson account! Go cry to your mommy.” It’s not a good place to be. Bring a power strip so several people can power their various tinkly devices. Yes, you’re extending the life of their horrid ringtones. Just be the power savior already.

Beware: A computer is a magnet for the non-computer user, who is atypical in the general population but you’re on a train. Have a bunch of stock phrases ready to go for the curious like “Ha ha! Yeah ... well, back to work!” and “Make way for the e-future!” Keep the string at the ready.

10. Train v. Non-Train Food.
In America, we treat food like the Lowest Common Denominator in our lives. We process the hell out of food so it has sellability™ for years, even decades. Because Amtrak has never run at a profit, and because there’s no room for a working garden/abattoir (I originally typed “abbattoir” here ... “you can dance, you can dine, having the time of your life”) on a train, train food is modular and crappy and overpriced. One of my random dinner companions nailed the experience to the wall: “Well, that was adequate.” You may think eating on the train is going to be this romantic, regal occasion. It’s plastic plates (apparently a 2006 innovation) and high fructose corn syrup. It’s nice that they group random people together at the same table, engendering conversation (unless of course you don’t want to talk -- bring your stringy), but there’s not much else I can cheer about. Wait: real tablecloths ... is that spinning your propeller? Sample prices from May 2007:

$7.00 Railroad French Toast (average)
$11.00 Cheese Ravioli with Selected Vegetable That You Do Not Get To Select (bland; the menu audaciously suggests a wine to go with this)
$14.50 Roast Chicken
$16.50 Seared Catfish (an Amtrak employee un-suggested this option)

If you can’t afford stuff like this, perhaps the snack car/lounge car is more your style. It has a variety of low-cost pretend meals like pre-packaged 100-ingredient pizza and subs. Quick contraindication note: the Gardenburger and Blueberry Yoghurt (both purchased in the lounge car; there is an augmented ($7.75) Gardenburger option in the dining car) fought for contention in my stomach -- yummy/YMMV.

In Grand Junction, Colorado, there is a fruit/candy stand along with a bathroom. I don’t know if any of the other stations have this sort of thing, but on the California Zephyr route, this is about it.

Your last option is to bring your own food. You can’t borrow the lounge car microwave, you can’t ask anyone to “heat up” some food, so just forget about that. I brought a bunch of oranges and bananas, breakfast pastries, sugar bars (you will find these in supermarkets labelled “energy bars”) and other snacks. Somehow between this, two dining car experiences, and occasional visits to the lounge car, I fulfilled all my basic eating requirements during the trip (the longest, a two-train journey with a six hour delay, took around 77 hours).

11. Platform breaks.
I call them “platform breaks” because that’s what most people do -- go out onto the train platform and smoke, smoke smoke. When I end up with an empty 1.5 liter water bottle, I try to get it re-filled at the station, but the success of this endeavor depends on a lot of different factors -- how long the train will stay at the station, how many people are smoking, how far the station is from the train, if I can find a water fountain. Better than paying 2 USD for a tiny water bottle on the train. I also get out into the sun and soak it in, that vitamin D junk keeps surprising scientists with how important it is. Lastly, it’s a break for my throat and lungs sick of that train air.

12. Train Love.
Ask yourself, do you really want this? Your potential train buddy is travelling by train. What the hell is wrong with this person? After two days on the train you’re both going to be overly ripe and wiped out. You’re not at your Personal Best™, but maybe that will work in your favor ... I don’t know how you approach these things. I wish you the best of luck in finding a soulmate via subsidized government transportation.

13. California Zephyr.
A few tidbits about the California Zephyr route (August 2009):

14. Chicago Union Station.
Raze it. A meaningless jumble of deplorable dysfunctional signage and an absymal floor plan. Exit your train, there are people crossing each other everywhere, it’s like a giant pinball machine with hundreds of pinballs scattering every which way. If you have baggage, most of them look at you with sour faces because you’re taking up more valuable pinball room than they are. What is your deal? Maybe two Union Station workers will end up behind you making comments about the broken wheel on your bag. Very helpful. Eventually find some signs that read “food court” indicating you should go up an escalator bank. That people are streaming, running, flowing down from. You are probably not salmon. Go to the information desk. “I would like a map of this place.” “I don’t have one.” Laugh. Stick around and watch the info-clerk flail around trying to tell the Japanese businessman to walk three blocks to a specified destination. “Blocks? Streets?” He does not understand. That would be hard, having some foreign language dictionaries on hand that you could use or even a map you could point at. Finally find the food court and selections like that great Chicago deep-dish pizza institution, “Pizza Hut.” Bail, pinball around some more to your gate, stand for a half-hour because there’s never enough seating.

Do yourself a favor. Get maps of the facility before you arrive. See if you can find some restaurants outside the station to visit as well. If there are two or more of you, split duties. Somehow you will survive Chicago Union Station.

15. 2013 Trip Updater.
For some reason I again rode the California Zephyr from stem to stern both ways in the middle of 2013, along with adjunct trips on the Feral Wolverine 5000 through Michigan.

1 It is a square-shaped pie iron, not the round ones. It splits in two, you could have had a half pie iron fencing exhibition in the aisle. Three shows daily. See history come alive. Visit our gift & fudge shoppe.

2 Some trains split into two like a pie iron secretly squirreled away in your luggage -- one section goes to City A, another goes to City B. If you secretly move without doing some research to figure out which car goes where, and you end up in the wrong city, let me know ... I can always use a chuckle, and you’ll receive a Cardhouse t-shirt5.

3 I almost said “JuJuBes®” here but then I realized that no one I know eats “JuJuBes®.” Does anyone eat “JuJuBes®”? “JuJuBes®.”

4 Why the hell was an outlet put behind the armrest? 1) All Amtrak seats rotate in place. That’s what that big lever on the end seat is. This is so you can always “face forward” in a car that can be coupled to the rest of the train facing either way. So why didn’t they put the outlets in the middle of two rows so the outlet would be clear all the time, or move it up three inches so it was always clear of the armrest? 2) Government.

5 These do not exist and you will not receive one.