Take the A-Train to Chicago: Day One

Thursday, October 23

We are now pulling away from Wenatchee, Washington, picking up speed as the vibration increases.

My jeans are wet, as is my hoodie. I was in the tiny bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat when the train shifted and water came dripping, heavily, out of the shower head. So I’m typing this while a little wet. But, hey, it’s been an adventurous day.

Val is swearing she will not take a shower in our two days on the train. I’m convinced I must, just to be able to talk about it later.

We flew into Seattle from Oakland. Our Lincoln town car service picked us up promptly from the curb, and delivered us to the Amtrak train station in Seattle. We proudly walked in, checked our bags to be picked up in Chicago, and then discovered we had five hours until the train was to depart. So, at that point, we cleverly checked one more bag, to be picked up by us later, and got in a cab and said, “Take us to Pike market!” She quickly corrected me, “Pike’s Peak Market,” and then laughed and said people call it all sorts of things.

It turned out to be a beautiful day. It was probably hovering around 60, breezy and cool, and the sun kept trying to peak out over enormous clouds. All of the locals we met raved about the unusually good weather. We walked through the covered marketplace into a French restaurant. It promised us: Gorgeous views!

Well, not terribly gorgeous but certainly interesting. We were seated at an indoor table by the window. Our view was Puget Sound, but also the small apartments between us and the body of water. We were starting to wonder who lived there when I, in pulling my wooden chair close to me, snagged the wood with my left thumb. When I pulled it up, in pain, I noticed a large sliver of wood stuck in it. There’s wasn’t much of a head on it, nothing to pull out. Still, Val persisted and got it out. The waiter, who had been patiently leaving us alone until we settled things, came over and asked us if we needed a band-aid. He also brought a sheet of antiseptic. So, all bandaged up, we tore into our delicious terragon chicken croissants.

We left an extra dollar in tip for the bandage as we left – which I thought was generous, considering it was the restaurant’s fault – and started exploring the shops in the marketplace. We stopped along the way, after about 30 minutes, and had a soft drink while taking in another little restaurant. This one was much smaller, much cheaper, much more informal. It was help yourself, and we didn’t feel guilty about only having something to drink.

When it came time to get back to the train station, I called the number the woman taxi driver had given me, we found our taxi, and he took us back to Amtrak.

Getting on the train was no problem, and we were told which sleeper car was ours. I am amazed at how tiny it is, yet everything is here. A bathroom, sink, cabinet over the sink holding towels and soap. Two bunk beds. (That will certainly be interesting tonight!) I think a couple of mice would be very comfortable. We’re not mice. We’re anxious to see if this mode of travel suits us; if so, the possibilities could be very exciting.

At our designated time of 6 pm, we headed over to the dining car. I found out last month that we two had to sit next to each other so that the next couple could sit across from us. The couple at our table was from Pennsylvania, and had just visited their 26-year-old son and his girlfriend in Seattle. She works for the Salvation Army, and had an interesting story about how these hard economic times are really hurting organizations like theirs. Both Maddie and Charlie were very nice, but I could see redneck lines, sort of a conservative aura surrounding them. They live in a swing state. I am very glad politics did not come up in conversation, and whenever we thought it might, we would steer the conversation to the changing of the leaves right outside our window.

I’m going back to my book now. Bedtime will be the next adventure.