I’m sittin’ in a railway station, got a ticket for my destination…
It’s 1:45 a.m. and I’m in the Amtrak Station in Hastings, Nebraska.
I’ve driven my daughter to college, left her the car, and I’m heading back to Denver.
Unlike Paul Simon, I am Homeward Bound.
The train should be leaving now, but it’s always late. Everyone knows this, but they don’t do anything about it. They just continue to run late. Seems to me they should adjust the schedule an hour later so that it runs on time. But what do I know. I’m the guy who’s blogging at 2 a.m.
It also occurs to me this early morning hour that the seating in train stations was not designed for comfort. But man is it sturdy! Beautiful oak, the kind they don’t make anymore. These benches have to be 100 years old. My fifty-something bonious maximus wishes for a cushion.
Amtrak employees are inherently cheerful. This station is only open from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m., but the man at the counter has a smile on his face for me and all others. I find this amazing.
Another train blares its warning, like a mournful whale. I’ve been listening to this all night, at my nearby hotel. Randy, from Action Cab, says he’s been busy too. Showed me his chart. Two pages of passengers including me. From Randy’s cheer, I gather this is very good. He says he’s been picking people up at bars. Last weekend before school starts, after all. That’s Randy’s theory anyway.
Despite wailing trains, I do not despair. Boarding a 2 a.m. (or maybe closer to 3 a.m.) is a new experience for me, and I am a naturally curious person. I’m interested in seeing how a train can make it to Denver in 6 hours. It would take me that long in my car and I bet this train stops more often.
The next time I see the cheerful Amtrak man, he’s outside driving a lawn tractor, pulling a trailer of luggage. The weird part is that the trailer is a creaking antique, with wooden spoke wheels wrapped with steel bands. Only in the Heartland.
The trip is uneventful. We stop three times in small Nebraska and Colorado towns. We’re in Denver by 8 a.m. (local), which means it took six hours. After a huge breakfast at IHOP I am back home in 9 hours. This is exactly how long it took to get to Hastings in my car. This amazes me. My six hour train ride cost $54.
By now I know that Amtrak service travels covers much of the U.S. from Montana to New Orleans, from Vancouver to Miami. Last year was another record year, the sixth in a row, with 28 million riders. And Amtrak, fully owned by the federal government, only lost a half billion dollars, give or take.
I also know the seats are roomy, the bathrooms are clean and the ride is mostly smooth. The cars are 85 feet long and 14 feet tall (I had a great view from the upper deck) and ten and half feet wide. All that is balanced on two tracks 56″ inches apart.
I’m not too happy about the annual loss, but I like Amtrak. And I shouldn’t complain. I paid $54 for my trip and the government (you) chipped in another $17.45.
