Not All Trains Are Alike

From Virginia, I turned left, heading southward at last. And right off the bat, things changed.

It all started at the train station, where I sat and waited for an hour past departure time before boarding. And that was just the beginning.

Now, I’ve ridden Amtrak all over the West, and it’s always been my favorite way to travel. It’s scenic, comfortable, affordable and eco-friendly: who, I always wondered, wouldn’t want to ride the train?

As I boarded in Virginia, I started to understand: Not all trains are the same. In this part of the country, you don’t take Amtrak if you can avoid it.

Out West, there were big seats and big windows, and the cars were rarely full. You could walk around the train, hang out in the sightseeing car where happy families sat in cushy chairs admiring the view.

Here, the windows were tiny; the dining car was run down and half filled with luggage; and the tables were inhabited by a passel of loudly un-sober people playing cards.

It was a warm, humid day outside. The train car, however, was so cold that everybody was wrapped up in blankets, shivering.

In the back corner of the car, the overactive air conditioner was dripping freezing water onto one of the seats. A little old lady clucked and shook her head. “It ain’t sposed to be like that.”

   

Freezing water drips from the ceiling onto a seat, right next to a power outlet—
but don’t worry, the outlet doesn’t work.

The people were the saving grace of this train ride—which, as I later realized, was my first hint at the fast-approaching reality of the American South.

For, even despite the weird odors and discomfort in the overcrowded, dingy, freezing-cold train car, people were smiling, and talking. Old women and young college students had amiable conversations, compared backgrounds and family stories. People shared blankets and sweaters, and whenever the train stopped we all rolled our eyes and chuckled at our dumb luck.

We were all in it together, and we knew the train would get us there, and for a couple of hours we suffered through it in good company. After all, it could be worse.

But it could be better. I missed the West.