When I'd had a bit of a break and felt less like I was going to fall over from heat, I headed out to find my departure gate. Looking the train up on the screen, I headed off to the north concourse, for gate 19. As simple as that, right? Not so much. It was cordoned off, and I look to my right to see a long line of folks in a glassed off waiting area. I still had a ton of time before the train was due to leave so I wasn't worried. At least not until I tried to find my way into the waiting area, and saw the line snaking along through crowds of people. There were very few places to sit, and it felt like being at an airport when all the flights have been delayed. Announcements were made, but it was horribly hard to understand them. I figured out that the line wasn't for my train, so I went into the outer waiting area and found a squeaky bench to sit on. I had forgotten to get any more snacks or drinks, so I headed out to find a shop in the station, when I saw there were pop machines by the door. They had the little touchless icon, and I'd been using my phone to pay for everything so far, so I thought I'd give it a shot.
Worked like a charm, and I got a nice cold Diet Pepsi, delivered to the receptacle by a robot arm and everything. I remember back in the 90's hearing about the fact that some scandanavian country, I want to say Finland, had everything hooked up to their phones. They could literally get something from a vending machine just by using their phone. Incredible! And here we are, just thirty short years later and we're able to do the same!
I had a long diatribe about the Amish passengers. But decided just to summarize. I don't know their story, but it's got to be hard trying to be low-tech and having to interact with our modern systems. I will admit I was having some serious Handmaid's Tale flashbacks. And while waiting in the Longest Line Ever, some kind soul decided to let them cut into line. And then they let someone else cut in front of them, and my particularities about queueing just tweaked a bit.
I was, however finally cool, thanks to some giant fans in the waiting area. They didn't announce my train but clearly nobody knew what the line was queueing for, so I got in at the end. By the time I was worried about how long the line would take, and how many people were in front of me vs departure times, the line began to crawl forward. As it turns out nobody knew if it was for our trains or a different one, but we all queued and by the time I got to the front it was a line for anyone with a ticket. I get through the front of the line and am directed to a train and from there guided into the right coach. A little crowded, but really not bad at all. My fears of having to fight for a bad aisle seat were unfounded, and we're almost to Minnesota and nobody is sitting next to me.
Amtrak is serious about masks. Got a gaiter, or a bandana mask? Fail. Shield instead of mask? Fail. Haven't got your mask over your nose? Fail. They were handing out generic masks to people who didn't have the right kind on, and I was very impressed at how clear they were.
After the train had barely started, they had a long announcement reiterating those rules, as well as clarifying behaviors. Like, keep the mask on unless you're eating. But if you're drinking, you should be able to keep it mostly on. If you're eating, you literally have to be taking a bite of food. Chewing? Mask on. Breathing between bites? Mask on. Most everyone was compliant, though someone at the check-in line had gotten animated about their gaiter not qualifying. It did seem like the Amish folk had a problem with their giant beards.
When we got to Milwaukee it was sunny by had clearly just rained. I'd been watching storms go across Minnesota and Wisconsin, and eventually we found one. Some stiff wind and a huge downpour, but it didn't last long. It is now raining extremely hard. I have every confidence trains are hard to blow over though. One of the best things about travelling. If it's raining, you're likely to drive away from it or pass through quickly. Before long it was golden sun again and green fields of Wisconsin. We stopped for a bit of a delay as the power had gone out and the signals weren't working. Whatever community that was, they figured it out quickly, and we were back on our way. I don't care, as it's my last leg. But it wouldn't be a train journey without some kind of delay.
We did pick up more passengers in Millwaukee. I tried to do my best "you don't want to sit next to me" attitude, but that doesn't work very well because I'm polite. Someone paused and I was typing fiercly and they moved on. I think they may have read the previous posts and knew I would be clicking away for hours.
Headed off to the observation car to see what was up there, and it was fairly full. I had no interest in sitting in there though, as it was a nice open area with comfortable chairs and had a good community feel. Meaning everyone was chatting with each other. Check, please! I figured out that the snack car (diner car? club car? food getting car?) was just down the stairs and rolled the dice. Thankfully, it was a straightforward system. Attendant behind a counter/glass and options on the wall. A hot dog, cheese plate and a Coka later and I'm back on my way to my seat. So technically I got a Chicago-sourced Hot Dog. They were making announcements about people with reservations in the dining car at various intervals. So clearly there was another food getting car, but I wasn't interested.
A little more writing, some chatting with my sister over Facebook, and half of Driving Miss Daisy helped me pass the afternoon.
At the Wisconsin Dells stop we got to see the same Dells businesses Lily and I saw on the way east. And the actual Dells, of course.
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| Ghost Boat! |
There was no wifi on the train, so I was tethering off my phone just enough to listen to music and save drafts of the blog entries. The previous train from NY to IL had wifi, you just had to accept their terms and you were in- but it wasn't very fast and streaming was not a viable option. My phone had fair coverage, but the more rural it got, the more the signal dropped out. The things we have to put up with when being zipped across the state at 70 miles per hour.
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| Wisconsin looks like this |
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| Wisconsin also looks like this. Over and over again. |
I had been advised back at home that when we get to Tomah that was my cue to score a seat in the observation car. I wasn't into that, but I had picked a seat on the advised side of the train, and since I was in the upper of a double floor car, I figured I'm high enough to enjoy the scenery.
I can't help but think about the Hudson river as we cross the Mississippi. It's not just coming home to Minnesota, but to *my* river. The trees look right, the islands scattered in the channels look right, even the surface of the river looks right. The Hudson was an amazing river because it was so pretty, and I'd read about the ships and boats both large and small that had plied those waters for the first time. Men rushing to find the next location for a fort or trading place. Wars between men of all different nations, going so far back in the history of the country that some of it happened before it was even a theory: The United States. When I look at a river I love to look at it through the eyes of the men who saw it hundreds of years ago.
Imagining how far we are from the things of man, and any hope of rescue should something happen. Also of the people who called this home, and used the rivers and forests as their own highways from community to community. I think of our neighborhoods and what the land must have been like before houses and streets. Before time was measured and hardship was shared but routine. The light is fading, and we're not likely to have much of a view of Pepin, at least the top end of it. And I've seen this river a hundred times, it's nothing new. But it's the something old about it that I really love. For so many years the water has been slowly slipping down the Mississippi, just as it has the Hudson and every river creek and brook in between. It also marks the halfway point of the country, in many ways, and reminds me that I've just gone from this place I call home all the way to the ocean and it's long history - and back to mine. Taking the train home has been fun, but I forgot to think about it's own history. The generations of families taking the train to their homesteads. The traders and business people travelling by train on the exact same path I just took. Their rides weren't quite as comfortable as mine, but I'm sure they were a hundred times more exciting. And even though I'm not journeying to make my mark on the world, or my fortune, or even a simple existence for my family,
It's so good to be home.
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