I arrived at the train station in little small town Iowa, as in the station hadn't been remodeled since the late 1900s. It was me, some amish folk, and a few other stragglers waiting for their love ones. Anyway train came, found my friend and was whisked away. I must say if I didn't have two huge pregnant-looking suitcases I would love train travel. Easy-peasy and lots of foot room! The train from Iowa to Union Station, Chicago was lovely. Quiet-well minus the giggles of myself and my travel buddy-cool scenery and the best "dinner car" announcer. We the passengers were known as, "America" and every time this feisty man made an announcement it went a little something like this...
*Read this with a swagger-filled southern dialect*
"Alright America, we got a little bit of orange juice left for you. Okay America? The dinning car is closing in an hours so come get your breakfast America." Though my absolute favorite was when he apparently made an error while reading..."Alright America, we have a Rebecca party of two and an Adam party of...oh...uh-oh...uhhh...." It was unfortunate that my time as "America" had to stop when I was demoted to "stupid traveler" when I entered Union Station.
Union Station. I was prepared for a bright open station with redcaps everywhere, but that image I had in my head was far from right. For my travels I packed two major bags, like I could fit myself and a small child inside one of them, but I can roll them. My friend on the other hand brought many little bags, with one that was heavy and couldn't roll very well. Well, since we aren't experienced cross country travelers we had imagined there would be help after we got off the train. We were wrong. Union Station when the train pulls in is pretty much underground (did not expect that) so it was super well lit, and there was no one to help. To say moving from the outside to inside was frustrating was an understatement. Once we found our way to the waiting area, which was a sea full of angry, sick-you name it kind of people-we were told (quiet forcefully) to get out of the isle by the most lovely lady ever *hint the sarcasm* Finding a spot would have been easy if the space they put everyone in was more open and less like a bomb shelter. Long story short some nice lady moved around and we were able to sit down. Then begins the 6 hour wait. On this wait here is what happened in a nutshell:
his features looked like Malachai (the evil redheaded adult killer). Oh, and he talked like Forrest Gump. This is not me being mean, just me describing to you in the simplest way possible our stalker. He came around every 10 minutes and would watch us. No joke. Like full on stare. We realized this when my friend an I were playing with Photobooth, taking stupid pictures of ourselves, and I turned the computer towards my friend and guess who was standing in the background...yup, it was exactly like a horror film.
2.) Watched various people get their luggage stuck in the new-age lockers. Lockers that read and respond only to your thumbprint. Well, this sounded like a nice idea but apparently the locker had a plan of its own, rebelled and ate the peoples' luggage. It wouldn't respond to their thumbprints and they had to resort to calling this beastly man who looked a little like an Eastern European version of Shrek, but had the personality of mean Ogre. One girl who was gonna miss her train went up to him, nicely and asked for his help telling him she needed to get in line. His response, "Yes lady, everybody has to get on the train. So I just need you to be quiet-" and that was when I stopped listening because the nice girl-who had awesome chained heels-had only said one thing and he shut her up. Evil Ogre. This happened again and again, it was like a soap opera. Intense, just needed music.
3.) The invasion of the arsty awkward dancing family. A rather earthy looking mom and her two, possibly twin, daughters sat across from us towards the end of the trip. The two girls who I thought were in their upper teens-based on their fashion sense (i was wrong)-sat in front of us on their kindles fighting over book ratings. Then the odd one who stared got up and sat on the ground and began to doodle what appeared to be very unfortunate looking trees. Later they got up and danced around-very gracefully-but awkwardly in the middle of the station. Come to find out from the feeble attempt of the other less awkward girl-this one wore a see-through shirt!-to flirt with a 25 year old. He lost interest when she revealed she was 15. But, the two girls had never gone to school, they just read a lot teach themselves and go to a dance conservatory. I learned this all from one sitting. Lucky me. There was a lot more to them but I had to zone them out because they started to make me nauseous.
Then my train ride to Penn Station was long as hell, but a nice one. Favorite memories-or just memories-of this ride are:
1.) Antoinette. The lovely older lady who sat across the isle from us. She was from Long Island and she was a godsend on the train ride. So nice and fun to chat with. Got lucky sitting next to her.
2.) Waking up at 6 something in the morning to see the apocalypse outside and wishing I had Viggo Mortensen with me. It was soooooo foggy/white/snowy outside I thought I was in the movie "The Road." Even Antoinette woke up and shrieked, "DO YOU SEE THAT?!" Yes, yes I did Antoinette.
3.) Train stopped for immigration people to come through with their gun-clad belts asking everyone what country they were born in and yadadadada. It was strange and unfortunate for the asian family sitting a few rows behind us because they got interrogated. Profiling? I think yes.
Yes, these are the memories I have of my 20-some hour long train ride. Penn Station was heaven compared to Union Satan. We found help, who found us a cab, who got us to the hotel super fast. New York has been pretty amazing (the pizza?! The tastegasm i'd waiting for). I shall keep you informed on my adventures to come. Till then...I am on the hunt for a decent Wifi connection ;P
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