As most of my regular readers know, I went to Baton Rouge for the first part of my holiday vacation. The second leg of travel, up to Champaign, Illinois, I decided to take via train. And not just any train– the famous City of New Orleans. I didn't get on at New Orleans itself, but at the first stop: Hammond, LA. As a Christmas present to myself, I sprung for a second-class ride in a roomette. It was small by the standards of an apartment, but luxurious compared to most other methods of travel. To compare, I have about quintuple the personal space of my accomodations on the USS Essex, and here I don't even have to scrub the bathroom! The scenery is more exciting too, although I do miss the tang of the salt air.

At the start of the trip, we slightly underestimated the time it would take to get from R&R's place to the train station, or perhaps we overestimated the extent to which the two kids would dawdle getting into the car. Either way, instead of arriving 45 minutes before the train arrived, it was more like 20 minutes. Even so, I invited R&R to leave without seeing me off, as it was cold, and the kids had been napping during the drive. Sure, it would have been fun to talk to everyone for a few more minutes, and the kids would have enjoyed seeing the train arrive and depart, but naptime is important, especially for kids overstimulated by holiday excitement. Waiting in line to check in and get my reserved and paid-for ticket, I was getting concerned as the minutes ticked by. The only ticket agent was also calling out to suggest that people have IDs handy, because "We're running out of time! The train'll be here in a few minutes, and they ain't gonna wait on us!" I got my ticket in hand at 2:38 PM, a closer shave than I'd prefer for a 2:45 PM train. The train pulled in seven minutes behind schedule according to my watch, but when I was boarding the car attendant told me they expected to pick up time on the way. As I write this, at 8:20 PM heading towards Memphis, we seem to be about on schedule. There have even been a couple of freight trains waiting on sidings for us to pass, which is a reversal of roles from the prior American train trips I recall.

My dinner was included with the passage, so I had the catfish, which was decent. The dining car has limited space, of course, so I ate in companionable style, four of us to a table. One gentleman was in coach and had been in line right in front of me in Hammond, where he bought his ticket with cash. The other two were a married couple, staying in first-class. Over dinner, I made a point of chatting, although the other single gentleman at our table had brough a book to entertain himself.

So, the married couple lived in a small community in Arkansas. She worked for the county judge, while he worked for the county trying to get industry to move to town. More interesting was the fourth at dinner, a Taiwanese man just one year younger than me. His father had retired from running several restaurants, and the son was now working as a traveling restaurant consultant. In essence, he advertised his services in a nationwide Chinese-language newspaper. If one was wishing to open a new Chinese or Japanese restaurant (Japanese being more profitable right now), he would help you find a space, negotiate local regulations, equip the place (including working with the local fire department so you could get the needed exceptions to put in hibachi tables), and help you train cooks and staff. He'd do two or three different restaurants a year, each one taking three or four months, and spend the rest of the year visiting friends or relaxing in Chicago, his "home base." It sounded like an interesting life. His parents moved back to China upon retirement, which is a sign of relaxing political tensions, as they'd come from Taiwan originally. Being in coach, his dinner wasn't part of his ticket; he paid in cash, with a crisp $100 bill. After paying for tickets and then dinner with cash, I am suspecting that he works as a cash consultant, and perhaps some portion of his annual earnings are not fully reported. But perhaps I have an overly suspicious mind– some people just prefer to use cash.

The train rolls along through pitch-black rural Mississippi. During the daylight, I looked avidly out the windows at the Louisiana swamps and Mississippi forest. Now, I can finally get some studying done. Which is to say, I ought to conclude this blog post, even though I won't be able to upload it until tomorrow. If we continue to be on-time, I'll be getting off at 6:10 AM, so perhaps an early bedtime is in order.

UPDATE (morning): Well, what an unpleasant night. Previous train trips, I slept in the lower deck, down between the bogies. This time I was an upper deck. What is a minor rocking motion when down between the wheels, becomes a two-foot violent lunge up on top. It's something to do with moment arms, I'm sure. At any rate, that was one of the worst nights of sleep I've ever had. That's not a metaphor– I've slept better while under enemy bombardment. Ah, well. It was still probably better than coach would have been. And much more comfortable than flying!

Posted by: Boviate at 01:50 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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