Amtrak Waiting Area

Found myself in Penn Station, waiting for a train. I love Amtrak. People bemoan the passing of the great passenger trains from our culture, and rightly so. Probably was pretty cool to talk to a Pullman Porter, smoke cigarettes while waiting for steak in a dining car, the Sunset Limited is pulling out. Good times are not only in the history books though. Amtrak is still pretty great. Amtrak Workers love their jobs, they actually care about train travel and the experience of the passenger. Trains fascinate me and gladden my heart. Ever fall asleep in New York and wake up in Washington D.C.? Automobiles are isolating, as isolating as horses. Jack Kerouac might have glorified car-love but Neal Cassidy was brakemen in the railroad earth. Airplanes? So sleek and modern, but it’s like going into a hospital. You worry if the cure is going to be worse than the disease. What a humiliating way to go to and from home. Trains are civilized. Trains respect. Coming around the bend, took my baby but it never will again. All decked out in Christmas decorations. Waiting area for Amtrak in Penn Station… some time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. We’re all transitory here, except for the Amtrak workers. Happy, helpful. Clever, the double train entendres of the Amtrak signs—letting off steam, steam locomotives. The train beneath the tree, memories of the train you just got off of, or anticipating the one you’re about to board. Eternity is this life in a different scale. Trains can supply half the metaphors you need to understand mortality