Robert Gale Ongley

Month: September 2022

  • RIDIN’ THE RAILS (UP THE LINE)

    Continuing on our vacation to the East coast by train, I awakened during my restless night and looked up the aisle to the Observation car. In contrast to our darkened Coach, it’s brightly lit for the night owls who are hanging out in front of the big windows or sitting at tables in conversation. I noticed how the car ahead tilts to the left or the right while ours is in the opposite position. Or maybe it’s our car that’s rocking and the other is maintaining its position. I had the idea prior to this that a train is rigidly moving along the track in lock step. Another indicator I’m new at this.

    Day Two

    Our social lives started picking up. There were more chats. We started finding people we resonated with and people were opening up more. I was spending more time in the Observation car, aka the Lounge car. Sandy was making friends there, but I was taking the time and space to work on the final stages of my new novel’s third draft.

    One couple we had some great laughs with was also traveling on the USA Rail Pass. As with us, they would be getting off in New Orleans and heading north on the Crescent toward New York. They were in their 20’s or possibly 30’s. Quick to laugh and smile, they seemed to fit in with everyone with whom they communicated. What stood out the most, though, was the woman’s skill with a Rubik’s Cube. We watched her solve it within a few minutes. Her boyfriend took it back, “shuffled” it and handed it back to her. As we were singing her praises and engaging her in conversation, she quickly solved it again. She did it over and over while talking to us.

    We made our way across Texas, losing the Tucson family in San Antonio. Somewhere along the line, we picked up a black man about our age who was dressed in cowboy style clothes. He was soft-spoken, but friendly enough for us to feel his kindly vibe.

    As we neared New Orleans, we found our young Rail Pass couple in the lounge. She was applying goth makeup for a short night on Bourbon Street.

    With all the delays for the freight trains in our path, we reached New Orleans almost five hours late. Our plan had been to take an hour or two and go down to the French Quarter for a meal and a little music perhaps, then spend the night at a hotel. As it turned out, we headed straight for our lodging. By the time we laid down in the heavenly bed, it was 4:00 AM. With less than four hours of sleep, we rolled out and made our way back to the Union Passenger Terminal for our northbound Crescent. There was the young couple in line for boarding and she was scrubbed clean of her goth look.

    DAY THREE

    It’s Labor Day. Some of our fellow passengers are still with us on this leg of the journey, including the aforementioned Rail Pass couple and the quiet Texan. In fact, he was sitting in the seat just across the aisle from us. We got to have ample, relaxed conversation. We learned he’s a train addict, though that’s not the term he’s using. He just loves riding the trains. He knows a lot about them and the routes they take here in the USA. He volunteered he feels comfortable to talk to people in just two places–trains and roller rinks. He enjoys roller-skating as much as anything in life and does it practically every Sunday. He even instructs others how to skate.

    Eventually, the discussion turns to meeting people who turn out to be special to us. It can be synchronistic and almost magical at times. He shared an example with a person he met. That person, who happened also to be black, met a white man and they fell into deep conversation. They discovered they were from the same town in the South. The black man mentioned that his ancestors were slaves. The white man revealed his ancestors were slave owners. They dug deeper into the details and were amazed to learn the white man’s ancestors owned the ancestors of the black man. The two became good friends.

    Riding the train can be a series of snapshots. Scenes of a passing landscape or person seen through a window at 100 miles per hour. An overheard snippet of conversation that by itself sounds surreal. They come in many forms. One such instant popped up when I was moving from the Observation car to our Coach. There in the front seat sat a passenger wearing a Covid mask and a sleeping mask simultaneously. His face was squarely aimed at mine. I felt as though I was being confronted by a muppet.

    On this third night, I walked into the cafe and noticed the young man of the Rail Pass couple sitting at a table with two other men. I haven’t yet mentioned the young man has a shaved head, a beard and glasses. As I walk past them, I notice in a quick glance the two men across the table also have shaved heads, beards and glasses. Those two also look identical to each other, at least that’s how I see it in my mini-scan. I kept moving and returned to my seat without sharing my observations. Sandy soon went to the cafe and visited with the three men. She came back eventually and told me about the men she met who were hanging out with our Rail Pass friend. It turned out they weren’t twins. They were a married couple. I guess it’s a case of the old adage of married couples starting to look alike.

    At this conclusion of a summer-ending holiday weekend, the train was filling up although it was the middle of the night. We couldn’t use open sets of seats under the circumstances. We sat together and had to maintain a slightly reclined sitting position most of the night. There was a lot of talking among the new passengers as they boarded and settled. The morning brought the thought I conveyed to Sandy. “Today is the fourth straight day I’ve had five hours or less of actual sleep.” That was a new record for me.

    Endless Track

    As the old saying goes, “I’ve got a million of ’em.” Like the one about Tuscaloosa I borrowed from Groucho Marx as we passed through there. Or the one by the conductor attendant when he learned I was writing about my train experiences. “Remember me!” he said. Or the one about the man in his 80’s who was treated to this trip around the country by his family because of his love for trains in general. Or pulling into the station of our beloved Santa Barbara–a homecoming.

    If you look up the railroad track, the two rails look to unite into one by the time they reach the horizon. The events of the hour, the day, a lifetime eventually meet at one distant point where they’re all on the same track. The impression is the same when looking back down the tracks as well. Life on the train illustrates and magnifies what we’re going through in this mundane life in the material universe. The difference is we tend not to pay attention to the details in our lives off the train. I have way more stories of this train trip than I have space I want to devote to it on this site. Hopefully, I haven’t bored you with the ones I’ve already written.

    Maybe the point has been made. Train travel is a series of experiences we can choose to see as adventures, big and small. And so they are. We treasure these experiences. There’s no reason we can’t see our own lives the same way if we’ll just make the choice to see life as an adventure.

  • RIDIN’ THE RAILS

    My wife Sandy and I recently took our first vacation together in a few years. Due to soaring air and cruise fares as well as persisting high gasoline prices, we elected to travel by train. Amtrak offered their USA Rail Pass for $499 each and we took them up on it.

    The basic terms of this offer is that the traveler can take 10 separate rides, also known as segments, to anywhere Amtrak services within a period of 30 days. Seating is in coach cars and upgrading is not allowed. That means the overnight passenger has to sleep in a seat much like an airliner seat, but with more foot room and foot and leg rests.

    We decided our top priority was to visit our son in Philadelphia and we would do whatever else we could do along the way to add to our unique holiday. From Tucson to Philadelphia would cost us only two segments each way if we took the southern route through New Orleans. That left us room for improvising.

    Train Day One

    We were novices, not knowing quite what to expect. Just seeing a conductor walk over to the boarding gate with his uniform and conductor’s hat was a novelty to us.

    We left the station. We were still in Tucson with nothing to see, so I pulled out something to read. The window on our side, to my left, was in my peripheral view. I perceived motion there. At one point, I looked to my right and saw through the window across the aisle that there was absolutely no motion. I was shocked! I looked to my left and saw the same thing. I realized the reason I thought we were moving was there had been a train going the opposite direction on the tracks to our left. What an illusion!

    After a few minutes, an announcement informed us of an A/C problem in the lounge car. We were not to use the lounge while they worked on it. Then, a few minutes after that they told us there was a problem with the engine. We hadn’t even left town yet! They stopped and corrected the engine problem within about five minutes. We were rolling toward the outskirts of Tucson.

    While the ride and the scenery are a vital part of the experience, it’s the people who make it the most interesting. We were worried about the guy who sat directly across the aisle from us before we left the station. He had a horrible, high decibel cough we could hear in our imaginary attempt at sleep. Fortunately, he vacated the area almost immediately, never to be seen or heard again. He was replaced by a young woman with a daughter perhaps three or four years old. She was very well organized.

    In front of us was a blonde dad of about 50, a dark-haired mom around the same age and their teenage son. They were on vacation, headed to San Antonio. A young, handsome man with dreadlocks and severely sagging pants was seated a few rows ahead of them.

    A large woman from Los Angeles was part of the staff, assigning seats and helping out much as a flight attendant on a plane would. We didn’t see a lot of her, though. She was probably attending to a number of cars located in other worlds to our front and rear.

    A fascinating fellow was the one who operated the cafe in the lower level under the lounge also known as the Observation car or Sightseeing car. The attendant who ran the cafe was a boisterous sort. I notice he rode a thin line on the edge between agitation and enthusiasm in his handling of customers. He will gladly give you a rundown of the food and drink choices he has to offer even though there’s a menu on the wall. He’ll make cheery recommendations if he senses you need it. But he had rules. He wanted no more than three customers in his little shop at a time. He could snap out commands to get back and wait until it’s your turn. And he’s constantly having to train people how to use their chip card on the processor. He has a well-rehearsed verbal tutorial which he delivers in an upbeat manner, but when the customer goes off track, the repetition of the instructions gets edgy. Also, Sandy found she could get the inside skinny on train life you don’t learn just anywhere. All in all, he’s a fun person to know.

    As we rolled into El Paso, I saw the Rio Grande briefly. It was shallow and not very wide. It would rank as a creek in the East. The real attraction for the train passengers is the Burrito Lady. She is announced well ahead of our stop. She sells homemade burritos next to the rails and we’re encouraged to get some. She probably makes a couple hundred dollars in less than 15 minutes. She also has an air of mystery about her because she’s clothed from head to toe and masked. She’s exuberant and sweet, though. We’re in and out of her whirlwind before we know it. All aboard!

    That first night, I headed downstairs to the bathroom to prepare myself for sleep. While in there, I heard a man out in the common area near the bathrooms. He screamed, either out of frustration or insanity. After a pause, he screamed again. He continued this up to five times. When I eventually exited the bathroom, I did so warily, not knowing what I might see. He was nowhere to be found. Maybe he opened one of the doors in that common area and leaped out into the void.

    We learned there would be delays when we would encounter freight trains ahead. Amtrak has to give right of way to the freighters because they own the tracks. One time that first night, we were delayed for more than two hours because one of them ran out of fuel and had to have someone come out to refuel their engine! How does that even happen?

    As we were drifting off in the dimly lit coach with our circle of fellow passengers, we were jarred by some alarmingly violent coughing and vomiting by our young mother neighbor. She had tried to make it to the bathrooms downstairs, but she emptied her gut right on the stairs. We were all up and trying to assist, but she just sat on the top step for fear of slipping during a lurch of the rocking train. The young man with the dreadlocks showed compassion and a bit of leadership. He found the attendant, who had the unfortunate duty of cleaning up the mess. When the mother’s daughter awoke and discovered her mother wasn’t there, she cried like a motherless child. It broke our hearts. Sandy and the other mom comforted her while letting her know her mommy was nearby.

    Sandy decided to sleep in two open seats, allowing me to use our two seats. I still could manage only fitful, painful and interrupted sleep, but I spent about six hours laboring at it. It was a long night of Texas, but the Sunset Limited was bound for New Orleans.