Train travel

Perhaps there are better times to reflect on the merits of train travel than within four hours of dismounting from an eight-and-a-half-hour train ride. My legs are stiff from sitting for so long and my stomach is not feeling so great after a daylong diet of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish and insufficient fluids – not because beverages weren’t readily available but just because my willingness to become mildly dehydrated trumped my willingness to use an on-board restroom.

Nonetheless, once the journey is over – at least one way, with the second half to commence in another few days – it seems in retrospect like time well-spent. During the years my sister has lived in Washington D.C., we’ve done the journey by plane, train and automobile, and I always end up concluding that train is the best way, even though seven hours into an eight-plus hour trip, it might not always feel that way.

My kids always prefer train over car for this trip because they know it means I’ll be more available to them than I would if I’m driving. I admit I’m not piles of fun on a train – at their current ages of eight and twelve, I expect them to be fairly self-sufficient when it comes to their own entertainment, and I don’t devote hours to reading aloud or playing card games – but they still appreciate the fact that I can give them more attention than I would behind the wheel. They also like the fact that unlike in a car or on a plane, they are welcome to walk up and down the aisles as much as they wish. They made so many trips to the café car when we did this same trip a year ago that the café attendant recognized them yesterday and gave them each a complimentary bottle of water.

And for the most part, the train journey went really well. Holly’s newfound love of recorded music was a boon; she listened to songs she’d recently downloaded on my iPod for hours on end, and read a couple of books she picked out earlier in the week. Tim spent a little time texting with a friend; then he too read. Together they watched a DVD on my laptop.

Due to delays we weren’t particularly aware of at the time, the whole trip took an hour more than it was supposed to, and by the final hour we were pretty tired of being on the train. At that point, Holly made up a game for all of us to play called “Eight Clues.” It’s sort of like Twenty Questions on Speed: it entailed Holly thinking of a person, place or thing and then immediately telling Tim and me eight facts about it, after which we were free to guess what it was. Games that are really easy are a good plan for the last hour of an eight-hour train trip.

The most important aspect to any leg of transportation is a safe arrival, and I’m happy to say that we couldn’t have asked for more in that regard. We arrived at Union Station a little weary but otherwise fine, and as soon as we emerged into the warm sunlight of a spring evening in Washington, we spotted Sarah and her kids, who were excited to see us and even more excited (on the kids’ part) to tell us that they just saw a man throw up on the sidewalk.

Train travel still wins first place, in my book. It’s easier than dealing with airports and it’s a lot less stressful than driving. And if I’m not exactly chomping at the bit to get back on the train for the eight-hour ride home, I’m still really glad that we chose Amtrak this time around.

Written on the train

Though the train ride from Washington, D.C. home to the Boston suburbs takes nearly eight hours and is a little tedious no matter how much I try to tell myself that the scenery is engrossing and the free time welcome, mostly I keep looking at the roadways and thinking how relieved I am not to be doing this same trip by car. Eight hours of travel is bound to be a little tedious no matter how you do it, but Amtrak certainly beats automobile.

If I were driving the same distance, I’d be fighting the drowsiness that overtakes me any time I drive more than an hour or so in bright daylight, and the kids would have to sit still. Instead, I’m free to doze – although Holly seems determined to ensure that doesn’t happen – and the kids can get up and walk around as much as they want, which is a lot. You’d never imagine it from all the time I spend at home imploring them to clear plates, throw away discarded projects, and put dirty clothes in the laundry, but each of them has made a dozen or so trips to the trash receptacle at the far end of the train car. They’re willing to toss out each piece of trash we generate individually if it means more opportunities to be on their feet. And I have no problem with that. It’s good for their circulation, it’s better for their bodies than sitting still, it passes the time – even if ever so slightly – and it increases the odds that they’ll eventually tire out and fall asleep, though that hasn’t happened yet.

The scenery outside is intriguing, and I feel sure that if I were by myself I’d be much more focused on it, but the distraction of staying aware of what the kids are up to keeps drawing me away from the window view. Still, every tableau I’ve viewed is interesting in its own way: the lush forests in Maryland, the glass and steel buildings of Wilmington, the crumbling brick warehouses of Newark, the muddy tones of the Passaic River. Soon we’ll reach the picturesque harbors of Connecticut.

Reading is hard for the same reason admiring the view is: I’m distracted by keeping aware of what the kids are doing. Tim is immersed in his own book, but Holly is squirrely, and she and I are both indulging in too many empty carbohydrates – chips, crackers, cookies – in an effort to make the time go by. I’ve sneakily encouraged the kids to buy food one item at a time – a hot dog, then a drink, then later a dessert – because walks to the café car take up their time also, and seem to be of great amusement to them, though I grow a little anxious every time Holly is out of my sight. Just two weeks ago I interviewed an expert in human trafficking; had I not talked to her so recently, I wouldn’t be worrying about Holly being snatched from a lurker on the platform as the doors open.

So yes, it’s a little bit tedious, but it’s sooooo much better than driving. We’ll be home in a few hours, and we’ll get into our car at the train station, which is a lot better than having spent the past ten hours in it. I’m grateful today to Amtrak for making my life easier and more interesting than it would have otherwise been today, and I’m grateful in general for a safe return home after a great trip to D.C.