If you haven’t “Amtrak-ed” you should.
If you haven’t “Amtrak-ed” you should.
I tell people that riding Amtrak is a step above riding a Greyhound bus. It’s more comfortable, there are more amenities, better views, and often times better entertainment.
I grew up with train tracks less than 100 yards behind my house. They stretched east to west, but near our family home in my small town they were less than a half mile from the now defunct Farmer’s Co-op grain elevators. The trains I watched from my backyard as a kid banged along slowly as one by one they lined up to be filled with grain. The one and only time I saw a train hauling people on those tracks was back in 1984 during our town’s “Centennial Celebration.” I was two, but I’m pretty positive I remember being held in my dad’s arms as we boarded the train bound for a quick trip to Des Moines and back.
1984 would be the last time these tracks carried passengers. After the Centennial Celebration was over this rail returned to servicing trains hauling mostly grain. Now and again the train cars would be detached from the engine and left parked on the rail behind our house for a few days. My brothers and I took this opportunity to climb over and around the rusty metal cars as well as strategically place pennies on the tracks in anticipation for the departing train wheels to smash and stretch Abraham Lincoln’s face like pulled silly putty. It was a wholesome and wild upbringing to have train tracks running parallel to a shallow creek so close to our home. It was my favorite playground. Because of this I fell in love with the tracks, the trains and the late night horns that cut through the stillness of our sleepy little town.
It wouldn’t be until I entered college that I would ride a train again. Once that seal was broken I became enamored with train travel. Specifically, Amtrak train travel. In Iowa, the Amtrak route cuts straight across the bottom of the state, east to west from river to great river and beyond. In southern Iowa, small towns, cornfields, grain elevators and waving farmers are the backdrop to anyone riding between Omaha and Burlington. I’ve taken that rail from Ottumwa, Iowa to Colorado a few times, and even did a solo 3 day haul from the heartland to Boston in 2022.
However, my first ever Amtrak trip was a last minute decision booked a week before spring break during my freshman year of college. My newly acquainted college friend Meg and I traveled from Kansas City, Missouri all the way to her home state of Maine in March of 2002. Not the typical spring break college destination, but art school kids are just different. On that first trip at the ripe and flexible age of 19 we rode coach for 3 long days and nights. I hadn’t yet discovered the bliss (or need) of a neck pillow, ear plugs and eye mask. I packed light and simply focused on art supplies and books rather than pillows and blankets. That night I took a balled up hooded sweatshirt and struggled to wrap it around my head while supporting my neck. Finally with the sleeves over my ears and somehow across my eyes I found a few hours of rest while “sleeping” mostly upright. The whole train travel experience was new to me.
As someone who grew up having the luxury of flying between destinations my whole life. (Thanks Grandpa Frank for working more than 25 years at American Airlines.) I was more familiar with the sound of a jet engine and checking luggage than I was with the slow jostle of a train gaining momentum upon departing. On my first Amtrak trip I immediately fell in love with what I call “slow travel.” It’s all the little things you don’t get on a plane or in a car. Like the small town depots with a single vending machine, the paper tickets with destination scribbled in sharpie stuck above your seat, the train horn cutting through ghost towns, and the freedom to walk between train cars as fields and forests flank you. Amtrak has a way of forcing you to be in the moment. For me it’s a chance to decompress, attempt to read a book, sketch, meet new people and watch the landscape shift mile after mile.
Where I’m from in Iowa the Amtrak line is sandwiched between beautiful rolling fields of corn, beans, cattle and the occasional llama. Pulling out of Iowa is my favorite part of the ride. Despite growing up here there’s a fresh sense of appreciation for my state when I watch it through the windows of an Amtrak observation car. With earbuds in place I settle on a classic bluegrass playlist while I sit gazing outward, my feet propped on the window rail. I scan the hillsides for deer, tip my hat to the town of Melrose and sip on a cup of cheap Amtrak coffee.
There’s a lot to take in and if you’re paying attention as you pass through towns you will eventually pass through an intersection and see someone waving to the train. I always wave back. It’s as wholesome a feeling as seeing a kid pumping their fist to a long haul trucker on the interstate. Give ‘em what they want. Just wave.
Leaving Iowa in either direction fields flatten and grow. The trees change from deciduous to coniferous and back. The towns vary in size from po-dunk to graffiti laced metropolis. Hour upon hour there’s no stopping. Eventually, when we do, I witness the quickest smoke break on the planet. Unlit cigarettes in hand they line up at the exit doors on a mission. Just off the train on the platform small groups of smokers hot box their Camels and Winston’s while keeping an ear out for the announcement to board again. Apparently nobody wants to be left behind because they’re back in a few minutes and making their way to their seats wrapped in a blanket of fresh nicotine.
Some riders do get left behind mid trip, but it isn’t on account of smoke-break negligence. I’ve seen it happen twice. These riders have usually made unfortunate choices that aren’t Amtrak compatible. They are forcefully removed from the train by the aid of local police officers upon the request of Amtrak. Being witness to a few of these removals I have some pointers to avoid the early drop off. One, when they say don’t smoke on the train, don’t smoke on the train. Two, if you think hundreds of bugs are crawling on your skin I recommend dealing with it calmly and rationally by taking deep breaths and asking for assistance. I do not recommend stripping naked in full view of other passengers, or walking the aisles naked, or taking a trash bag and turning it into a t-shirt while still walking the aisles mostly naked. These behaviors signal a bit of a red flag and you will be escorted from the train by very friendly police officers in the next town. These unexpected interruptions to the train schedule also cause delays, and although they don’t have a life altering impact (on me personally) nobody likes to be delayed.
For the most part Amtrak is pretty reliable and runs on time. Sure, there are the occasional unforeseen delays like I just mentioned, but overall it is more rare than common. Just last summer Avery and I sat in the Denver Station waiting to board our train towards home. Four hours later when we finally got into our seats the rumor was our train was delayed because of a person vs. train accident back when the Zephyr departed California. I hoped that wasn’t the case and finding any relevant news of such an event wasn’t anywhere on the internets. When I asked the lady next to us how she knew the details of our delay she said the Conductor had told her.
There are no secrets between the Conductor and their passengers on an Amtrak. We as passengers are always in the know. From alerting us to a shortage of hot dogs in the concession car to detailing the reasons for a delay, we are informed without edit straight from the horses mouth. On my return leg from Boston a few years ago our train unexpectedly stopped for 45 minutes outside of Niagara Falls. Eventually the Conductor’s voice came across the speakers letting everyone know that we were waiting for a bridge inspector. Apparently a bridge we needed to cross had been hit by a truck earlier that morning and the inspector needed to confirm it was load bearing and safe for our train to lurch across it.
I appreciated this attention to safety, but questioned whether the information was really something you wanted to tell your passengers. “ Hey folks, your conductor here. You might have noticed we have been sitting in the same spot for awhile now. Have no worries we will get rolling just as soon as the bridge inspector gives us the thumbs up to cross.” Cool. Just a thumbs up is all we need to feel fully confident that the 55 ton piece of rolling metal was safe to cross a damaged bridge. How long is this bridge? How old is this bridge? How high up is this bridge and does it cross water?
I had questions. Nobody was going to answer these questions. So I made a quick assessment of my surroundings and how best to pop out the emergency window next to me. If we were going to tumble to the ground while crossing this compromised bridge I was going to survive. Luckily I didn’t have to act on these hypotheticals. Fifteen minutes later the train cars shook as we began to roll again. As soon as we crossed the bridge I was already over my sense of impending peril and happily distracted with finding a snack.
That’s another thing I love about Amtrak. Pack your own snacks. Hell, pack your own picnic. You can bring pretty much anything you want on these trains. Security? What security? There are no metal detectors or bag scans. They don’t even check your ID against your ticket when you check in down in Ottumwa. This baffled Avery, but I told him to think of it like we’re in Mayberry about to run into Gomer Pile. That didn’t really calm his fears and I can see why.
Growing up in a post 9/11 world you might assume even Amtrak implemented heightened security measures. They did not. I laugh when I say this because although I clearly see the loophole for bad things to happen I also find it bittersweet that things haven’t changed. There’s a trustworthiness in the general public that has all but faded in other forms of mass travel aside from Amtrak. So no, there isn’t a TSA gustapo waiting to throw out your 4 ounce bottle of shampoo, pat down your tender bits, or take your pocket knife. And yes, if you want to smuggle a 24 pack of beer or a handle of rum on board you go ahead and do so. Smuggle all the beer and booze you want, but don’t get caught drinking them in your coach seats. Sleeper car passengers are the only ones “allowed” to bring their own alcohol on board and they must drink it within the confines of their room. Cheers to them.
Although I don’t bring beer, I do bring plenty of snacks. Personally I tend to go light and pack small snacks, but I’ll be dammed if there aren’t folks out there who take it to the next level. Avery and I watched a group of Amish (ubiquitous with Amtrak travel) who all sat at the observation car tables early one morning and ate Oatmeal and boxed cereal poured into bowls. A cold growler of milk was passed between them as they all crunched and slurped their breakfast. I’ll admit I was jealous and impressed. They were saving quite a bit of cash by brining their own meals. I paid $8 for a standard no frills hot dog the night before. I’m the fool who should have packed her own Captain Crunch. When they were done eating they went and did a very Amish thing once again impressing me. They cleaned their dishes. A true testament to “Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” each person went to the communal sink to hand wash and dry their bowls and utensils. I’m sure at some point I was staring, but dammed if I’m not a sucker for reveling in the ways of the Amish.
In general the Amish are veteran Amtrak travelers. Packing their meals, anticipating stops, playing group board games and chatting with passengers as if they were sitting in their living room. They are as polite as you would expect keeping mostly to themselves, but they get loud while getting down with some pretty intense card games. There’s usually a few elders playing chaperone to the groups of Amish Amtrak riders, but for the most part they consist of young people I would guess to be between 14 and 22 years old. Avery and I struck up a conversation with a group of young Amish men on our last trip. They were headed to to Mexico.
Not for a spring break/ rumspringa coming of age adventure, but for “medical procedures.” The most outspoken one who was probably around 17 gestured to his mouth when he told us this. Avery and I concluded they were probably all getting their wisdom teeth pulled. That’s not been confirmed, but it’s what we decided made sense. They’re kind of an enigma to me, the Amish. I’ve watched the TV shows about them and made many trips to actual Amish villages in Iowa and Illlinois, but I still have a stereotypical view that is clearly inaccurate. That view was altered abruptly when three years ago on the train platform outside of Ottumwa a group of Amish men got off the train for a quick smoke break.
I thought the Amish didn’t partake in smoking, drinking or general debauchery? I guess I was wrong, at least about the smoking part. We all have our vices.
Near the end of our first evening aboard the Amtrak this past July a group of young Amish men behind us burst into song. It caught everyone within earshot off guard, but they were not shy or embarrassed as they sang. What was most shocking about this spontaneous concert was the choice of songs. You might be thinking that we were graced with a tight 4 part harmony of “The Old Rugged Cross,” but you would be wrong. These young Amish men sang old school country songs a cappella for 20 minutes. Sure they sang mostly off tune, but the gusto in which they belted a few Tom T Hall numbers word for word was impressive. Serenading us with hooks like “ Old dogs and children and watermelon wine,” and “I like beer, it makes me a jolly good fellow.” My mind was blown. Do the Amish have radios? If so, what stations are still playing Tom T Hall? Another question for the Amish that was never fully answered. Eventually the group songs faded and one by one they each found their seats and settled in for the next few hours.
For me Amtrak travel is one of the last forms of mass transit that still has charm. In the dining car you are seated across from complete strangers and given a menu with standard hamburger/ club sandwich options. The wait staff in the dining car have mastered the sway of the train. They walk carefully, yet confidently with tray in hand and when they get to your table not a drop of coffee is spilled. I opted for breakfast in the dining car as we traveled East. Scanning the menu I could have gone rouge with a frittata or fruit bowl, but I’m a creature of habit with breakfast menus so I chose the French Toast. It wasn’t quite toaster strudel nor was it being hand dipped in a cinnamon infused egg wash in the kitchen, but for high speed train travel French Toast it wasn’t too shabby. Sure, the butter was scraped from a foil pad and the syrup was single serve from a plastic tub, but as I sat watching the fields fly by and ate my French Toast I thought “ I should do this more often.” So I have. I’ve traveled Amtrak long distances 3 times in the last 3 years. Sometimes I get the French Toast, sometimes I get the breakfast biscuit.
After all Amtrak is an adventure, so adventure I do.
When I book my Amtrak tickets I always book the cheap seats in coach. When the day to travel arrives and it is nearing bedtime I always question this decision. Being over the age of 40 and “sleeping” in an upright position as people walk up and down an aisle is a struggle for me. Inevitably I pull out my phone, hop on the Amtrak app and start eyeballing the sleeper car prices. These rates are not for the lower to middle class folks like myself. Pricing per night starts around $250 if you’re lucky and can go upwards of $1,200. Per night. Do I think it’s worth $250 to escape the cries of a frustrated child in the seat behind me who has long strong legs which keep kicking my seat back? Sort of. But I’m pretty cheap, so unless I can think a single item I own which would sell on Facebook Marketplace for $250 guaranteed at this instant, I don’t upgrade. I remain in coach 90% of the time I ride Amtrak, but I have splurged a few times in the past and lemme tell ya, the sleeper car is where it’s at. It is pure bliss compared to the coach seat experience.
The sleeper cars provide an intimate and private Amtrak experience. Each cabin has a little sliding door complete with curtains that close you off to the entire population of riders. There’s a little table that folds down to reveal a chess board, two beds that fold out or drop down for actual horizontal sleeping, climate controls, push button lighting and even a nice soft blanket complete with Amtrak logo. You can keep the blanket. I googled it before stuffing mine away in my luggage. I figure if I’m gonna pay a couple hundred bucks for one night in a swaying sleeper car I’m gonna want to take something home other than a neck cramp.
When I arrive at my final destination another Amtrak adventure is in the books. I’m anxious to see if my car is still in the long term gravel parking lot behind the train station and excited to get back home to my routine, my cats and my own bed. Heaving my bags onto my shoulders I make my way off the train and give the conductor one last head nod.
As I pass those waiting in line to board for the start of their trip I can’t help but hope they all brought ear plugs and a neck pillow.
