Amtrak

I'm heading to Boston today for a mini 10 year grad school reunion.  I know what you're thinking.  10 years?  But Liz, you are clearly only 28.  Are you Doogie Howser type smart?  The answer is, of course, yes.

This is less a discussion about travel fashions and more a discussion about modes of transportation.  I feel lucky to live in NYC, where I can get pretty much anywhere in the world I want to go and I can travel in a method of my choosing.  I've been flying a lot recently so I thought, why not try some other way to Boston.  I have taken the Bolt Bus and the train many times to and fro, all up and down the East Coast.  My decision was made easily when I thought of the prospect of standing on the street corner by Tick Tock Diner on 34th Street, in 98 degrees (not the band, but that would be awesome), with the mob of people pushing their way onto the bus.  That's the very worst thing about any form of traveling.  Rushing the gate - clamoring to hop aboard.  I appreciate that Bolt Bus has zoned boarding, and I signed up for the loyalty program to insure that I will board with Zone A, but that doesn't really happen on a crowded, hot street corner in NYC.  There's just a bunch of mean and pushing. It makes me anxious.

So, done deal.  Amtrak it is.  Now, I used to travel a fair amount on the train and it was always quite pleasant; however, I was traveling from Boston to Stamford, CT (boyfriend related travel).  I didn't often journey into Manhattan, on a Friday, in the summer.  If I had, I might have been slightly dissuaded from moving here. 

Penn Station.  Possibly the worst place in all of NYC.  I would prefer to go to the scariness that is the Port Authority. 

Penn Station used to look like this:

Today, Penn Station looks like this:

So, thousands of people gather around the giant board and then run towards the train when the gate is posted (which is like 3 minutes before the train is due to leave).  There is not one empty seat on this train, so when the gate was "announced" a train full worth of people stampeded towards the 1 escalator entrance of the train platform.    And despite getting to the train station 30 minutes early, I feel lucky to have gotten a seat.  

I have visions of old timey railroad travel.  Where you might say farewell to your one true love, as steam fills the station, obscuring your tears.  You hear "All Aboard" and you pull it together.  You know this is the way life, and wartime, goes.  You hop on the train as it starts to move, hoping your love will run and hop on too.  But it just can't be.  You turn to blow him one last kiss, but he has gone, perhaps forever.  You settle in the bar car for a Manhattan and a cigarette and you gaze at the countryside, sunglasses hiding your tear stained face.

 

But here we are.  I'm sitting on a packed train with 4 different people on cell phones, eating McDonalds, drinking giant cokes.  The guy beside me is listening to his music loudly enough for me to hear it through his earphones and he can probably read that I just wrote that because we're sitting that close to each other.  He is also wearing jean shorts.  In fact, pretty much everyone I can see at the moment is wearing one form or another of a jean short. I can currently see the interstate to my left and what looks to be a junkyard to my right.  My internet connection is marginal at best.  There's a whole lot of sun beating down on my left arm and the air conditioning is maladjusted. 

So far, the train has provided me no incentive to list it as my #1 favorite method of public transportation.  I am Bolt Busing back.  You will be the first to know my assessment. 

Although, now that we have hit New London, CT and the train has emptied out a bitm adn i can see beautiful beautiful water and boats, I am a little more into this experience  

NOTE:  The guy across the aisle is talking loudly on his cellphone about the duck that they killed and chopped up and left in the fridge for their friend.