Bright Moments While Traveling by Train
Downtown St. Louis looking magical from the train :-).
The Amtrak station is nestled into a gritty concrete block of downtown St. Louis. Once you park your car in the gated overnight lot, you walk a block or two past some empty lots penned in by chain-link fences. Scrubby weeds and empty soda bottles dot the aging asphalt, uneven numbers are spray-painted onto crumbling brick walls, and gravel crunches under foot. If you look to your right, you see the colorful walkway connecting the station to the trains: translucent squares of red, yellow, and blue standing out against the dull sky like stained glass for preschoolers.
I’m running late for the train today, so I hustle along from the parking lot with my bright orange bag in tow. A burly man trudges ahead of me, taking up most of the sidewalk. I can tell that if I continue my current pace, I will have to pass him before reaching the station, and I debate whether to greet him as I do. Pros: acknowledging a fellow human being and adding a positive interaction to our days. Cons: potentially inviting unwanted advances which might continue throughout a five-hour ride in an enclosed metal tube.
I decide to risk expecting the best, and turn my head to offer a quick “hello” as I pass. He is absorbed in a rose gold smartphone and doesn’t respond. I continue to power walk toward the station; as I reach the first set of double doors, I notice that he’s picked up his pace and is at that awkward distance from me where if I go straight through the doors, they will close in his face, but if I stay to hold them, I’ll be waiting for about thirty seconds. My bag gives me some trouble as I try to wheel it over the threshold, so I’m still there as he arrives, and I hold the door open for him. We step into the lobby together and both remark at how hot it is. He generously reaches forward to open the second door and holds it for me, and then continues on to the ticket counter as I peel off for the escalators. Chalk one up for the goodness of humanity!
As I move toward the escalator, I notice a sewing machine strapped to the top of a suitcase and smile at the joys and freedom of traveling by train instead of by airplane. I walk across the skybridge between squares of colorful light, watching the yellow Mustang in the parking lot below change tints with each square. I arrive at the downward escalator/stairs combo, and in the moment of hesitation while I debate which option to choose, the woman in front of me stumbles and falls on the escalator. There is a station attendant there who immediately stops the escalator and steps ahead of me to help her. Once the woman is back on her feet, with tupperwares restored to her tote bag, the attendant announces that she’ll start the escalator back up, but it will take a cycle to start moving. The young men in front of the woman pipe up cheerfully: “No problem! That’s fine!” and I give silent gratitude and another couple of points to people’s inherent goodness.
When I board the train, I choose a seat halfway down the car, just behind a teenage boy and his mother. When she shows him how to use the seatback tray and tells him how much she loves him, I realize that he’s probably on the young side of teenaged, and that she’s not staying on the train with him (another benefit of train travel: still being able to walk loved ones to the point of departure). A rangy young man in black with multiple tattoos, a snappy goatee, a baseball cap, artfully ripped skinny jeans, and bold yellow high-tops takes the seat opposite the mother and son. He starts to arrange his luggage, which appears to include a giant yellow pillow, a couple of trash bags of clothes, and a full meal including a personal pan pizza, breadsticks, and an order of buffalo wings. The teenager’s mother turns to him and asks a surprising question: “Are you a seamstress?”
I wonder at the non-sequitur-ishness of it for a moment (as well as whether there’s a masculine version of the word “seamstress”—“tailor” seems to have slightly different connotations. It seems like this question should have come up on Project Runway at least once in the seasons I’ve seen…) and then the image of the sewing machine strapped to the suitcase reappears in my mind’s eye. The man replies, “Yes!” The woman asks him if he has a card, and he can’t find one but offers his Instagram handle, which I don’t catch in the bustle of other guests finding seats on the train. I do overhear that as it’s prom season, he’s swamped with orders, but would be happy to chat with her later.
As the mother bids a final goodbye to her son and leaves, an elderly nun in a shimmery mauve trench coat boards the train and takes the set of seats across the aisle from me. We exchange smiles when a stroller-toting grandmother is followed by a toddler dressed in full train conductor gear—tiny blue-and-white striped overalls and cap with a red kerchief around his neck, cheeks pink and eyes alight with excitement. The teenaged boy sneezes and the nun, the seamster, and I all speak in unison: “Bless you!”
I think it’s going to be a good trip :-).
Ready to ride the train!
Snack of the day: Argo Tea Earl Gray Vanilla Crème Teapuccino (Unfortunately 7 months expired, which I didn't realize until I took a sip...still surprisingly good! But I opted not to finish it :-)) and the most delicious pop tart I've ever eaten, introduced to me last week to my profound gratitude. It's a limited edition Dunkin Donuts Vanilla Latte Pop Tart (here is an amazing review of it by Dan G at Cerealously, and this pop tart is definitely my spirit pop tart.) Do yourself a favor and go try one before they're gone!
PS I am not being sponsored by Argo Tea, Dunkin Donuts, or Pop Tarts (but we can certainly talk about it! :-D). This is just some deliciousness that I am magnanimously sharing with you so you can taste the awesomeness too!
UPDATE AND MORE GOODNESS OF HUMANKIND: The seamster just exited the train with his unique and bulky set of luggage. He dropped a metal bobbin and a young man in a newsboy cap quickly picked it up and handed it back to him before running to board the train. And a middle-aged woman laden with quilted floral Vera Bradley bags held the door for him before entering the train station herself. Good train riders of the Midwest, you're crushing it today :-).
