[This event happened on my train ride to Texas in February of this year. It's taken me this long to recover from the shock and put down into words the unique experience that was the beginning of my trip around the US.]
I think this one of those rare instances where life takes a hold of you and and shakes you and reminds you that you're not in control. That can be a good thing...sometimes. At the beginning of this trip it seemed pretty horrible. I was already bummed because I had not been able to get a window seat for the 40 hour train ride to Texas. One of the reasons I had for taking the train was to see America from 15 feet instead of 30,000. I was not expecting a full train. When Sean and I had taken the overnight train to Flagstaff a few years back there was plenty of room to move about and sit wherever.
As I sat there waiting for my 40 hour best friend to arrive, I was anxious. Please be a grand mother, or a nice mellow hippie person. Not an oil rig worker, thug rapper ex-con or CEO. I didn't even have to look up, the smell of alcohol arrived well before my seat mate took his prized window seat next to me. The guy looked to be in his late 20's and right away we were uncomfortable with each other. I'll call him Bob. Me being corporate bred and uptight, him being a hard partying, hard drinking, deep voiced dude. As the seats around us filled, it was clear he was going to be more comfortable with his surroundings than I was. Before we had even left the station the guy across the aisle had raided the cafe and returned with a tray full of Corona's, and was bragging how soon he would be heading back to get the rest. He was heartily cheered by those around us.
Directly behind my partner was an African American gentleman in his late 50's, early 60's who loved to talk, "Communication, it's all about communication". I'll call him Ernie. I'm not using real names just in case I run into any of them on a train again. Plus I've already forgotten them anyway. I never saw the guy directly behind me, but I could tell he was younger and quiet. Across the aisle from him, and catty-corner behind me was an African American man, also in his late 50's. We shall name him Harry. He was on his cell phone talking to his wife about how nice it was in coach, "yeah, they put me in coach and it's reeeaaal nice" I sat there wondering what was worse than coach, where had he sat prior to this, baggage. As far as I know, coach is as low as it goes. Huh?
Unlike most of the men I encountered on this heartbreak express, Harry was the only one heading towards a relationship. Like Ernie and Bob, and two other guys I overheard in the observation car, most men on this train were running away from ruined relationships with their "whore of an ex {girlfriend/wife}." Harry was proudly telling his wife, "Don't pay the mortgage, I have a financial blessing, I'll take care of paying that mortgage when I get home".
Things went smoothly for the first 30 hours or so. Everyone got along and enjoyed each other stories. There was talk of lawyers, guns and money, most of which I escaped by hiding in the observation car. I even slept there one night so I could lay horizontally, instead of trying to sleep sitting up, next to Bob. But things started to get interesting.
I don't remember where it was, but somewhere before San Antonio we had a long layover. Harry mentioned, in a rather dramatic fashion that he needed to go to the market, by himself. Apparently, he hoped in a cab to do just that. It's one of those things that wasn't weird, except it was. Back on the move. Saturday night we pull into San Antonio for, surprise, a 10 hour scheduled layover. Huh. Always read the train schedule. I could have rented a car and been in Austin in an hour, or at least a hotel room.
Lucky for me, my seat mate Bob had friends in San Antonio and he planned on a night of drinking and a shower and sleeping on clean sheets. Cool, because they had decoupled us from the rest of the train and my observation car was on it's way to New Orleans. If Bob hadn't left we'd have been elbow to elbow all night long. I got the luxury of spreading across two seat and laying on the metal bar between the seats. Believe it or not I was grateful.
Now here is where things got interesting and tense. Keep in mind that through out this whole trip, something one of the fellows had said stuck on the front of my mind. "You know I take the train because there are things I got that can't get through airport security" Terrific. When Ernie had gotten back on the train and he recanted a tale of his encounter with Harry a couple of hours ago. When we all got off the train Ernie had befriended a couple of the lady passengers on the train. They were standing around talking. Apparently they were on their way to walk around San Antonio and get diner. They invited Harry. Harry got indignant, and how dare they butt into his business, he was taking another cab to somewhere and it was none of Ernie's dam business were he was going. Ernie was baffled and I think a little insulted.
When the sun arose on our orphaned train, desperately in need of an engine to pull it the last few miles to Austin and beyond, Ernie finally got the chance to tell Harry, who by now was clearly relaxed and drunk, what had been bugging him all night. Something alone the line of "I don't want to talk to you no more, so just don't say another word to me..." This is were things got a little bit Survivorish. With each side trying to build alliances by being extra nice to the people around us. Harry offered me a beer, I politely refused because it was 6:00 AM in the fucking morning. Meanwhile, Bob, sitting next to me, who not more than a minute ago was telling me how much he drank last night, and how hungover he was, gladly accepted and popped the top on a can of Budweiser. For the love of God, somebody bring me an observation car.
When we finally got hooked up to our new train, I quickly ran to the cafe car looking for coffee and to escape the sure to be multiple shootings about to occur in coach. I enjoyed the fresh air and solitude of a peaceful empty observation car. I went back into our original car. Surprisingly, everyone was not lying dead on the floor, but the stench was overwhelming. I realized that nobody in that packed car, except Bob, had showered in the last three days. It smelled like someone had put a ham sandwich and a can of corn in an old shoe and buried it for three days. Getting off the train an hour later in Austin felt like getting released from prison.
Another women from the same train looked at me on the platform and we smiled at each other and she said, in a gleeful tone, "We made it". We did. But you want to know the funny part, I kinda missed everybody for the next few days. Life's weird. Either way, I was glad to be alive and standing in the shower of the Austin Motel.
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