Chugging Our Way to DC & Points Beyond

Vacation: Still Day 1

Still Friday, September 26th, 2008

Following my 2 block hike along the boarding platform at Union Station, I arrived at my designated train car. I was wheezing like an old accordian and sweating like some kind of farm animal - yet, I was now expected to lug my bags up a flight of 4 steps and then another longer, narrow, winding staircase to the second level.

Again, I appealed for help. Again, I was ignored. Again, I muttered, "Assholes."

I wrestled 2 of my bags into a storage rack on the lower level, then hauled my carry-on up the next flight. I collapsed into my assigned seat, swearing to myself that I'd never ride the rails again.

After a few more puffs of Albuterol, I surveyed my surroundings. Not bad .... I had a window seat. The seat reclined and had both a leg & foot rest. Currently, it was quite comfy, but I wondered how it would be 15 hours later.

I was soon joined by my seat-mate, a middle-aged gentleman from Connecticut. He pegged me immediately as a newbie in the realm of train travel, and quickly gave me the low down on where the loo, lounge, observation & dining cars were located. We chatted briefly, then settled into our seats - he with his Ipod, me with my book. Thank heavens I didn't have a talker!

As the train slowly left the station, Conductor gave us a lengthy speech on dos & don'ts on HIS train. He frightened me. He ran through the list of rules, including toilet etiquette ("If you don't treat the restrooms with cleanliness & respect, I WILL shut them down!"), the wearing of shoes at all times when not seated ("You can easily lose your toes walking between cars without proper footwear."), as well as making reservations to dine, do not request a change in your seat, and most importantly, ALWAYS have your ticket at the ready for his inspection.

Hmmmm .... maybe I had boarded the wrong train.

I was supposed to be going to Washington, D. C., not Auschwitz.

As Conductor swaggered his way down the aisle, he addressed each passenger with a curt, "Ticket." The requested item was quickly handed over and he briskly separated the ticket and stub. As he approached me, I realized I couldn't recall where I had place my ticket! Oh, my God! I dumped the contents of my purse into my lap .... no, not there! I rummaged through the carry-on .... where was that damned ticket?!? Conductor's shadow fell across me - "Ticket."

I piteously confessed that I appeared to have lost it.

He repeated the word with a look of disdain. "Ticket."

"I just had it," I whispered.

"I'll be back," he threatened.

The CT seat-mate joined my search in the elusive piece of paper. As we stood to retrace my steps from the lower level, my new BFF reached towards my fanny ..... I had been sitting on the ticket!

Conductor returned, holding out his hand - no words were needed.

I handed it to him with a tremulous smile. As he snatched it up, my CTBFF explained, "It was stuck to her butt." Gingerly, Conductor returned the stub.

After that, the evening ride was fairly uneventful. By now, darkness had fallen and the only sights to be seen were small town lights streaking past my window. CTBFF had retired to the lounge for an light repast and I shifted around in my seat, seeking a relaxing position for a good night's sleep.

Then, it occurred to me .... I would be sleeping with a strange man, with only an arm rest between us!

Day 2 begins tomorrow ...........