A Roomette?

{I’m exploring rooms and room and roominess and various room-inations* during Lent 2024. Today, the cross between cozy and claustrophobic.” *Thanks, again, Jim T.}

A roomette. That’s what AMTRAK calls the cubby hole in which Joan and I spent three weeks one night. And again, on the return trip. All things considered, it was better than sleeping in coach. We had privacy and beds (of a sort) for the journey from Minneapolis to Whitefish, Montana and back. But, adding suitcases and backpacks to the already compact roomette made things just a little cramped.

Here’s how the AMTRAK website describes the space:

For customers seeking both privacy and savings in First Class, Roomettes feature two comfortable seats by day transformed to upper and lower beds by night. Each room includes a big picture window, newly upgraded bedding, pillows, towels and linens and access to a restroom and shower in your car.

A dedicated First Class attendant will provide turndown service, assist with meals and help with luggage. All customers in private rooms receive complimentary lounge access at major stations, priority boarding and complimentary meals onboard.

AMTRAK

The site also mentions, if you look for it, the dimensions of the cubicle: 6 1/2 feet by 3 1/2 feet. Uh-huh.

Our locomotive

OK, so it wasn’t that bad. During the day, snuggling up with our backpacks next to us, we faced one another across the crowded room(ette), with that large window providing a wonderful view of the passing terrain. We enjoyed not having to dodge other passengers weaving through the train’s aisles, or having to endure the aroma of the tuna fish sandwich emanating from the seat in front of us. We had our own space, and that was fine. Until we needed to go down the hall to the shared bathroom and shower. Or to change clothes for bed. In order to have enough room, one of us would have to stand outside the roomette in the aisle so the other could stretch into PJs and re-pack backpacks.

Then there was the mechanics of pulling down the upper bunk, climbing up the ladder, and fastening the protective net that kept the sleeper (Joan) from rolling out of bed if the train took a curve too fast. My six foot frame barely fit the length of the lower bed. I did wonder if the train should stop suddenly, I mean real suddenly, if my feet should be toward the front of the train…to keep my head from being jammed into my shoulders if…well, I worry too much.

Joan and all the room she has side to side in the roomette

The car’s attendent was really very friendly, extremely helpful and especially attentive, given our ages. I’m not sure we’d have had such a good experience those nights if it hadn’t been for his help.

When not watching the scenery roll by, we read, napped, and talked about the National Parks’ wonders we were headed to see. Again, the privacy was nice. And we learned as we walked through the train and passed by the real rooms (without the “ettes”) that thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s nicer home. Like the one Garrison Keillor was in just around the corner. He looked comfy in there, and yes, he was reading. Though we liked his roomy rail abode, we did not intrude. We knew he is an introvert (as I am) and 99% of celebrities don’t want to be bothered by well-meaning commoners. (I once said a very casual hello to Donald Sutherland in a Newport, VT eatery. He was not a happy man.) Keillor had no choice when it came to the dining car. No one gets a private table as the locomotive pulls us companions along the prairie’s home. (I’m smiling as I type that. So clever.)

G. Keillor. It’s the only pic I took of him, and he also respected my privacy

Joan still grins as she recounts what Keillor said to her as we all waited to deboard the train in his familiar Minneapolis station. He said…(wait for it)…”Go ahead.” A man of few words off air. He did appear at our limited glimpses though to be a good scout: courteous, kind, cheerful. Well, not that cheerful. And probably obedient, too, but we didn’t get a chance to see that side of him.

So, where IS the line between comfy and claustrophobic? I suppose it depends on how much time one spends in the smaller spaces of life. One night on the way west. One night on the way east. On AMTRAK. Sure beat flying! That airborne experience is definitely claustrophobic all the way.

 

Another Place to Travel (In)

{Oh oh– ending a title with a preposition. Sorry. It’s just a quick way of saying that today’s chapter in my Lenten 2022 writing practice is about “place” again, but this time another place that moves. My seat on trains, and not the model ones I wrote about early in this series.}

I don’t mind flying to some distant destination, but I have a deep dislike for the process…the busy airports, arriving way early, the check-in kiosks, the lines, the waiting, the TSA checks…and the delays and more waiting. I believe the Biblical term for such is “screw it.” As long as I don’t have to cross an ocean, I’d much prefer the train.

Youth Group about to board in Vestal, NY

The Erie Railroad station was three blocks from my house as I grew up. By the time I paid much attention to it, besides hearing the train whistles and track sounds in the distance, the Erie had merged with the Lackawanna Railroad and the train I took to college was the Erie-Lackawanna. Yes, I rode the train to and from college on many occasions, though technically the train station nearest Westminster College was in Sharon, PA, maybe 15 miles from New Wilmington. So, from the end of my street to college I had one long train ride and one short trip in the college station wagon.

Duane Totten, Charles Eldridge, and Carole Galloway

My first train ride was courtesy of our church. I’m guessing that was with the youth group to New York City. And it was a Lackawanna train leaving from just across the river in Vestal. Endicott had two Erie stations, but the Lackawanna ran on the other side of the Susquehanna River. The photo above shows Julie Warner (pointing) and almost out of the frame the minister’s wife Mrs. Kerr as the train approached. (I took the 120 slide with my Ansco Color Clipper camera.) A second photo (oops…double exposure) shows some of our group. Of course, NYC was fun, but having much of a rail car to ourselves also meant a good time together on the journey.

Back to the college trips. The E-L trains ran west to Chicago along the Southern Tier of New York State, and having taken the train so many times, I remember almost all the stops: Elmira, Wellsville, Salamanca, Olean (St. Bonaventure College), Jamestown– and then into Pennsylvania with stops in Meadville (Allegheny College), Greenville (Thiel), and then my stop in Sharon. I’m pretty sure on one or more of those trips I rode the famed Phoebe Snow, though it would have been toward the very end of its existence. I remember the journey home meant a late night arrival in Endicott, with my Dad having parked the family wagon at the station so I wouldn’t have to cart my luggage three blocks home at 2 or 3 a.m. I noticed on my trips home that my seat ticket always had a “200” penciled on it. I asked the conductor why the number was there. “Your stop is 200 miles from the NYC terminal,” he replied. A nice round number.

Later in life, I would take the train from Richmond to Raleigh (from seminary to the new Kellam home where IBM had offered my Dad a new position), and after seminary years, I’d take the train south to Fort Lauderdale to an annual conference. The first time I did that, the train from Richmond stopped in Raleigh to take on passengers. I didn’t have time to call home, but I thought I did have time to leave the train to get a Coke at the lunch counter right there on the platform. I ordered my drink and was surprised to see that the train was beginning to move! I abandoned the Coke, ran to the tracks, and just made it as the train literally pulled away. I don’t think I got off again until Fort Lauderdale. I kept imagining how I’d have to somehow retrieve my belongings when the train arrived in Miami and began the turnaround to head north again. Close call.

Since those days, trains have held a special place for me. For one thing, there is the size and power of those locomotives. And there is the spaciousness of the passenger space, a sharp contrast to air travel. Not to romanticize the experience, but I find the train attendants and conductors to be friendly, and despite the traditional “we’re running behind schedule” announcements, the hassles are few. When we lived in Vermont, we’d take Amtrak’s “Montrealer” or later “The Vermonter” to points south and back. More recently, we took Amtrak across part of Pennsylvania just to experience the Altoona Curve, a series of horseshoe curves through the Allegheny Mountains. On the tracks returning, the train hit a tree that had fallen across the roadway. Bang. We had to wait while a replacement locomotive made its way to the point of impact. No one was hurt, but the locomotive had quite the dent in its nose.

The Rocky Mountaineer

We’ve ridden excursion trains in Alaska, steam trains in the Great Southwest, and the Rocky Mountaineer. The latter was especially enjoyable since it stopped each night, moved us into nice hotels, and picked up the scenic journey the next morning; thus, we missed no impressive sights in the dark of night. And the meals aboard that train were outstanding. On another trip, we got a roomette on Amtrak from Minneapolis to White Fish Junction, Montana. That was an adventure, just getting in bed, with Joan strapped in up top and me in the lower bunk, with hardly room to undress/dress. It was far less “room” and far more “ette.” But the scenery along the way was something new to us, and that is one of the main values in travel by train: windows on the world as the tracks carry you to your destination. Garrison Keiller was on the return trip. He had a bigger bedroom.

Our area was abandoned by passenger trains years ago, but I still hope to be in our nearby town park as a train speeds by. The power, the sound, the rumble of the ground — there’s a kid in me that still loves that.

We’ve thoroughly enjoyed the train systems in Europe, seeing much of England by train for example. They leave on time (almost to the second), run frequently, travel smoothly, and are so well equipped for a pleasurable trip. We covet that experience for our own country. I wonder if Biden will be able to help. While we wait, Joan and I will load up the DVD of “Unstoppable” and watch Denzel and Chris try to stop the runaway freight. And I’ll turn up the audio so the house rumbles.

Joan on Amtrak headed west

Consider: do you have any favorite train memories? Other than the “Little Engine that Could,” do you recall any train stories or songs? If you could take a train tomorrow somewhere in the USA, where would you go? and with whom?