A Trip with the Chief
When I was three years old our family moved from Michigan to Kansas by train. This was not just any old train. I knew it by name. It was the Chief. This morning around 4:30 Hiromi and I returned on the Southwest Chief from an Amtrak trip to Chicago. This line runs from Los Angeles to Chicago. It was a fun trip.
We had boarded in Hutchinson around 2:30 on Thursday morning. The station was deserted when we arrived except for one other person who had driven there from Medicine Lodge. But the train was nearly full much of the way, and entirely filled as we approached and later left Chicago.
Tickets for Hiromi and me together cost $333.00. That included a small senior citizen discount for Hiromi. At that price, we figured that if we drove we would spend very nearly the same amount in fuel costs without allowing anything for wear and tear on the car. Airfare would have cost more than that, and we would have needed to drive an hour to the airport and back. We spent almost the same amount of time enroute on the train as we would have in the car. We're not good road warriors, so everything seemed like a good fit.
The ride was not as smooth as it would have been either on a good flight or in an average vehicle. This was the only aspect of the trip that did not compare favorably with other options. The train cars are as tall as a two story house, and they move on a comparatively narrow track. Our seats were in the second story, so the rocking motion was amplified at that height. Plus, we were near the front of the car, where the link to the next car probably transmitted more bumps than we would have felt in the middle.
Convenience and size of on-board restrooms were similar to air travel. But the train has many more other amenities. When we got the munchies, we could go to the snack bar and buy something to eat or drink. At mealtimes we walked to the dining car and ordered from the menu. Any food we brought from home would have been perfectly fine for eating as well. When we wanted to chat with friends we had made on the train, we headed for the lounge and staked out a table around which to visit. Others there sat in chairs facing the windows to watch the scenery or read. In our coach seats we had lots of leg room, enough so that our feet could hardly reach the seats in front of us even when we stretched our legs as far as possible. Our bags were with us all the time-- no delays while waiting in a baggage claim area, and no chance of our luggage not arriving with us. I never saw the "sleeper" areas, but for an extra fee we could have slept in beds on board, in private rooms. Family-sized rooms are also available.
More observations:
--We're blessed to live only 15 miles from a train station. In all of Kansas, I believe there are only six stops on this route, and Dodge City is the only one west of here. That means that for about 200 miles of its Kansas route, there is only one entry-and-exit point.
--No smoking is allowed on the train. This helps make the experience pleasant for non-smoking travelers, but apparently pains smokers considerably. When one man who had gone to the bathroom saw us preparing to detrain, he told us he was going to get off when we did to have a smoke. "They want me to wait till Dodge City, and that's too long." He joined the group waiting to get off.
His plan was thwarted, however, when the conductor spied him and told him again that he couldn't get off in Hutchinson or he would be left behind. He wasn't happy but he walked back toward his seat.
--Travelers have assigned seats, and the coach crews notify passengers when their stop is coming up if they are in their assigned seats. In other words, destinations are tracked by an association with a seat number. A public service announcement we heard made clear that if you are not in your assigned seat, you are responsible for detraining at the right time. If you are in your assigned seat, the crew is responsible.
While we were waiting to exit the train as we approached Hutchinson, the conductor felt some distress because one passenger was missing. Only five were present, and six people had bought tickets to Hutchinson. "He asked, and I told him directly that I would tell him when to get off if he was was in his seat. Then I made an announcement later. But he's not in his seat, and he's not in the lounge. I don't know where he is. He's not going to be happy when he wakes up in LaJunta [CO]."
--Hiromi is fond of giving voice to his yawns--claims it's not nearly as satisfying otherwise. But on a full train, in the wee hours of the morning, I heard it coming, and hurried to shush him before everyone else heard it in full voice. I didn't think a wake-everybody-up yawn would have been well received.
It's really strange when you think about it--a passenger coach at night is almost like a dormitory filled with people of all ages and both genders. I heard some soft snoring and realized that I had probably never before slept in the same "room" at night as a snoring male other than Hiromi (who hardly ever snores).
--On the way to Chicago, I heard a lot of the conversation between the two people behind us, and just for fun, tried to guess how they looked and what they were like. Clues from their conversation made periodic adjustments to the mental picture necessary. Neither of them are very young, but not old and decrepit either. I could hear that by their voices. The guy sounds like a tree hugger and a do-gooder. The lady listened most of the time, but talked about how she handled her children when they were teenagers. She sent them to live with their dad. The guy seems thoughtful and intelligent, but fairly full of himself. There's talk of pretty girls he has helped and rich people who foolishly ignored his sound advice after they moved onto the ranch where he worked previously. He referred to his second divorce. I don't think he is religiously motivated. No, definitely not. He speaks disparagingly of Jesus returning to earth. When he detrains, I see that he is rather short, with gray hair tied into a pony tail.
--When we got near Chicago, we struck up a conversation with the mother and young daughter across the aisle from us. They were from Wichita and heading to the same convention we were. We ended up spending a lot of time together enroute and some time together in the Chicago area. She was born to German immigrants, was a tongues-speaking, home-church, homeschooling Christian Mom who was retired from the military. She had worked first as a mechanic and then in loading bombs onto aircraft. She also had not worn slacks in ten years prior to this trip and had uncut hair during the previous period. We had a good time together--seeming incongruities notwithstanding.
This woman, who I will call Kathy, grew up on a ranch in Montana. Her German father was once approached by people from a Hutterite colony who asked him to make a genetic donation to help diversify the gene pool that intermarriage among colony members had concentrated beyond healthy levels. He refused, believing that by such an act he would be fathering children which he had no intention of accepting responsibility for, and not merely making a biological donation. I doubt that I'll ever read about this in any articles on the Hutterites.
--The train whistle on the Chief, from inside the train, sounds no louder than it does here tonight beside an open window with the damp, light breeze bringing the sound of the trains three miles away in Partridge.
--Moving between the train cars is less scary than I remember it from more than 25 years ago. Now there are curtains on either side of the passageway, and the gaps between cars are not visible as they were earlier. The gap in the floor also seems narrower and less scary.
--The old part of Union Station in Chicago is ornate and beautiful. Huge Corinthian pillars are made of rosy-beige marble (or possibly granite), as are the walls and floors. Long wooden benches provide a place for travelers with layovers to wait. This place must have been intended to showcase the wealth of the railroad tycoons from the late 1800s.
--Children traveling with a parent pay half of the parent price for tickets.
--We drove through lots of rain on our way to Chicago. I wondered whether air travel was affected. The Chief kept chugging along, without missing a beat.
After all these years, it was good to reconnect with this old friend--the Chief. Thanks for letting me introduce you to him.
We had boarded in Hutchinson around 2:30 on Thursday morning. The station was deserted when we arrived except for one other person who had driven there from Medicine Lodge. But the train was nearly full much of the way, and entirely filled as we approached and later left Chicago.
Tickets for Hiromi and me together cost $333.00. That included a small senior citizen discount for Hiromi. At that price, we figured that if we drove we would spend very nearly the same amount in fuel costs without allowing anything for wear and tear on the car. Airfare would have cost more than that, and we would have needed to drive an hour to the airport and back. We spent almost the same amount of time enroute on the train as we would have in the car. We're not good road warriors, so everything seemed like a good fit.
The ride was not as smooth as it would have been either on a good flight or in an average vehicle. This was the only aspect of the trip that did not compare favorably with other options. The train cars are as tall as a two story house, and they move on a comparatively narrow track. Our seats were in the second story, so the rocking motion was amplified at that height. Plus, we were near the front of the car, where the link to the next car probably transmitted more bumps than we would have felt in the middle.
Convenience and size of on-board restrooms were similar to air travel. But the train has many more other amenities. When we got the munchies, we could go to the snack bar and buy something to eat or drink. At mealtimes we walked to the dining car and ordered from the menu. Any food we brought from home would have been perfectly fine for eating as well. When we wanted to chat with friends we had made on the train, we headed for the lounge and staked out a table around which to visit. Others there sat in chairs facing the windows to watch the scenery or read. In our coach seats we had lots of leg room, enough so that our feet could hardly reach the seats in front of us even when we stretched our legs as far as possible. Our bags were with us all the time-- no delays while waiting in a baggage claim area, and no chance of our luggage not arriving with us. I never saw the "sleeper" areas, but for an extra fee we could have slept in beds on board, in private rooms. Family-sized rooms are also available.
More observations:
--We're blessed to live only 15 miles from a train station. In all of Kansas, I believe there are only six stops on this route, and Dodge City is the only one west of here. That means that for about 200 miles of its Kansas route, there is only one entry-and-exit point.
--No smoking is allowed on the train. This helps make the experience pleasant for non-smoking travelers, but apparently pains smokers considerably. When one man who had gone to the bathroom saw us preparing to detrain, he told us he was going to get off when we did to have a smoke. "They want me to wait till Dodge City, and that's too long." He joined the group waiting to get off.
His plan was thwarted, however, when the conductor spied him and told him again that he couldn't get off in Hutchinson or he would be left behind. He wasn't happy but he walked back toward his seat.
--Travelers have assigned seats, and the coach crews notify passengers when their stop is coming up if they are in their assigned seats. In other words, destinations are tracked by an association with a seat number. A public service announcement we heard made clear that if you are not in your assigned seat, you are responsible for detraining at the right time. If you are in your assigned seat, the crew is responsible.
While we were waiting to exit the train as we approached Hutchinson, the conductor felt some distress because one passenger was missing. Only five were present, and six people had bought tickets to Hutchinson. "He asked, and I told him directly that I would tell him when to get off if he was was in his seat. Then I made an announcement later. But he's not in his seat, and he's not in the lounge. I don't know where he is. He's not going to be happy when he wakes up in LaJunta [CO]."
--Hiromi is fond of giving voice to his yawns--claims it's not nearly as satisfying otherwise. But on a full train, in the wee hours of the morning, I heard it coming, and hurried to shush him before everyone else heard it in full voice. I didn't think a wake-everybody-up yawn would have been well received.
It's really strange when you think about it--a passenger coach at night is almost like a dormitory filled with people of all ages and both genders. I heard some soft snoring and realized that I had probably never before slept in the same "room" at night as a snoring male other than Hiromi (who hardly ever snores).
--On the way to Chicago, I heard a lot of the conversation between the two people behind us, and just for fun, tried to guess how they looked and what they were like. Clues from their conversation made periodic adjustments to the mental picture necessary. Neither of them are very young, but not old and decrepit either. I could hear that by their voices. The guy sounds like a tree hugger and a do-gooder. The lady listened most of the time, but talked about how she handled her children when they were teenagers. She sent them to live with their dad. The guy seems thoughtful and intelligent, but fairly full of himself. There's talk of pretty girls he has helped and rich people who foolishly ignored his sound advice after they moved onto the ranch where he worked previously. He referred to his second divorce. I don't think he is religiously motivated. No, definitely not. He speaks disparagingly of Jesus returning to earth. When he detrains, I see that he is rather short, with gray hair tied into a pony tail.
--When we got near Chicago, we struck up a conversation with the mother and young daughter across the aisle from us. They were from Wichita and heading to the same convention we were. We ended up spending a lot of time together enroute and some time together in the Chicago area. She was born to German immigrants, was a tongues-speaking, home-church, homeschooling Christian Mom who was retired from the military. She had worked first as a mechanic and then in loading bombs onto aircraft. She also had not worn slacks in ten years prior to this trip and had uncut hair during the previous period. We had a good time together--seeming incongruities notwithstanding.
This woman, who I will call Kathy, grew up on a ranch in Montana. Her German father was once approached by people from a Hutterite colony who asked him to make a genetic donation to help diversify the gene pool that intermarriage among colony members had concentrated beyond healthy levels. He refused, believing that by such an act he would be fathering children which he had no intention of accepting responsibility for, and not merely making a biological donation. I doubt that I'll ever read about this in any articles on the Hutterites.
--The train whistle on the Chief, from inside the train, sounds no louder than it does here tonight beside an open window with the damp, light breeze bringing the sound of the trains three miles away in Partridge.
--Moving between the train cars is less scary than I remember it from more than 25 years ago. Now there are curtains on either side of the passageway, and the gaps between cars are not visible as they were earlier. The gap in the floor also seems narrower and less scary.
--The old part of Union Station in Chicago is ornate and beautiful. Huge Corinthian pillars are made of rosy-beige marble (or possibly granite), as are the walls and floors. Long wooden benches provide a place for travelers with layovers to wait. This place must have been intended to showcase the wealth of the railroad tycoons from the late 1800s.
--Children traveling with a parent pay half of the parent price for tickets.
--We drove through lots of rain on our way to Chicago. I wondered whether air travel was affected. The Chief kept chugging along, without missing a beat.
After all these years, it was good to reconnect with this old friend--the Chief. Thanks for letting me introduce you to him.
posted by Mrs. I at
6:15 PM
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