July 2009
79 posts
Los Angeles Union Station is both disgusting and gorgeous, like most everybody here.
The waiting room is totally noir. I am suitably impressed.
As of 7:03 Mountain Time, we have run put of Mountain Dew. Those Cub Scouts have extreme tastes.
As a Pole, I think I would feel at home here in Gallup, New Mexico among the polls.
Hay bales covered in the billboard-size plastic banner of a defunct strip club. New Mexico constantly finds fresh ways to warm the cockles of my heart.
Perhaps New Mexico’s natural beauty is due to its single cell phone tower.
Two Important Announcements About Your Body
1.) French Toast on a train is indeed as good as you would hope it to be. It would be OK stationary French Toast but the addition of movement was a great touch.
2.) Our bathrooms don’t work until we go back down to a lower elevation. Hooray! I wasn’t planning to pee today. (luckily, just our car. I can walk 30 feet.)
Should have brought the Stadium Pal! We will endure.
What I find I really like about Amtrak so far is the “hon” effect. Brusque customer service seems so much more real to me than bland, pleasant smiles. There’s a world of difference between train people and flight attendants. Think of a classic diner waitress compared to a Hooters or Applebee’s hostess.
I know which one I get along with better. It’s the one who shows...
If you’re into grannies and Civil War reenactors, this train is a meat market.
Currently doing about 80 in “Bucklin” Missouri.
GOOD THING I AM WEARING A BELT!
Copies of The Audacity of Hope spotted: 1
Joe Biden Fan Club members recruited: 2
Quite good enchiladas consumed: 3
The guidebook warned me this train was lousy with Cub Scouts or some Wee-Blow kind of nonsense. Hopefully only part way. Would hate to have to test my survival skills against theirs.
I am compelled to eat what I kill.
(thank god I got the sleeper)
Amtrak Joe
Have donned my Joe Biden Fan Club shirt. Within two minutes of leaving my room, stopped and high-fived by Amtrak employee.
Southwest Chief REPRESENT.
Holy fudge, this train is taller than the house I grew up in. May be Unicron in disguise. Will investigate.
Sitting in the lounge sharing laptop space with probably the only ten year old 1960s-era Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. fan in America. What a coincidence.
Scowling up at everyone in the glass boxes on the Sears Tower because they are committing crimes against acrophobia. (the most useful phobia)
The canal here reminds me of Paris except I understand what the hipsters are complaining about.
A couple hours from the end of the worst leg of this trip and I have had far worse times.
Sleeping in coach was sleeping in coach. Survivable. At least as much as Indiana Jones can survive a nuke in a fridge. I wasn’t expecting six hours of sleep, but I’ll take it. Not even Jet Blue has this kind of legroom.
The fun begins in Chicago when the caste system kicks in. Having a sleeper...