How I Narrowly Escaped Death, or, My Views on Travel

I maintain that train travel (Amtrak) is the only civilized way to travel.  "Road trips" by car just kill me.  They take too long, you invariably get stuck in traffic and there always comes that time when you have to unceremoniously announce to the rest of the car that you HAVE TO FIND A REST STOP. NOW.  Air travel is somewhat better.  Once you've survived the indignity of having a 40 year old man body scan you and rifle through your carry on bag on underbritches and prescription drugs, you can at least calm you nerves and wait for you plane to board at the hotel bar.  However, planes seem to be delayed at the slightest weather and I resent having to go a solid twenty minutes without my iPhone while waiting for the plane to reach "altitude" - whatever that means.  

Train travel.  That's where its at.  You can roll up to the train gate 15 minutes or so before boarding, just show your ticket and then its off to the platform to pick where you'd like to sit.  You can lean back, relax and once the train gets going, saunter to the cafe car at your leisure to get a glass of wine (or four - no waiting for a flight attendant here). Natch, when I took the train recently to visit my brother and his family, this is exactly what I expected.  

My train was scheduled to leave around 7am, getting me into NYC at 11:30.  I rolled up to the gate at 6:40, ready to get in line and board.  10 minutes went by, 20 minutes by, 30 minutes went by and ..... no boarding, no announcement.  Meanwhile, an overeager train rider was trying to make friends with everyone standing by the gate.  She was talking to children, elderly people and young couples who clearly wanted to be in their own world.  She tried to talk to me and got a blank stare.  Like my mother taught me, I do not talk to strangers, especially at that hour of the morning.  

Once on board (30 minutes behind schedule), I was happily nestled in my window seat, with a securities regulation treatise on my lap.  Just as I was opening it, a girl about my age sat down next to me.  Damn, my plans of being alone foiled.  I hoped she would be quiet and let me engross myself in 10b-5 liability.  No such luck.  She proceeded to try to force feed me granola bars (I did eat one, just to shut her up) but I was terrified the whole time that she was some kind of granola bar serial killer.  In fact, I'm still not sure there's not some latent poison in my blood.  Then, she showed me a stuffed yellow chick she'd brought on the train - she called him the "train ride mascot."  The craycray meter was near boiling at this point. Finally, when she stopped trying to be my friend/kill me she pulled out her Bible to read.  She would read her Bible, then journal, then read, then journal.  I read Helter Skelter, and I'm pretty sure Charlie Mason used to do that too.  I made note of the emergency exits and started to mentally catalogue the items in my purse that might serve as good weapons.  For the record, lip gloss was on this list.  

At long last, I arrived in NYC, alive, unharmed and in one piece.  Do I still love train travel?  Oh my yes.  But I might just have to develop a pre-screening questionnaire for any potential train seat partners.