I recover my bags from the post-911 lockers by paying the final $8 for the maximum daily rental. The next two hours will be a trial of confusion and chaos. Many of the travelers in this Amtrak waiting area are new to riding the trains. They have the same questions and make the same mistakes. The main aisle is blocked with baggage holding the place for people not wanting to stand but ever vigilante that someone else might line jump or stand up.
This will be the first time I travel in a single level coach car. A new experience awaits.
Three babies cry out incessantly. One from hunger, one from general irritability, and one from neglect. The latter was a sad example of generational malaise. A young mother told her teenage daughter to ignore the screams of the teen’s toddler strapped into a carriage. “She’s not hungry and she’s not wet. She just wants attention. Leave her be.” The baby’s out stretched arms clearly pleaded to be held as others looked on with disinterest or scorn.
I exchanged looks with the short, prim, well-dressed New Yorker in the front row of seats. Just hold her we agreed silently. This baby was not too old to comfort, too young to be spoiled. The teenager had the better maternal instincts as she winced in kind with her child but would not defy the commandments of her own mother. So we all suffered with them both.
When they finally called for coach boarding, The New Yorker and I were forced to stand up as everyone crushed in from all sides. The conductor called for over 65 and families with small children. This turned out to be 80% of the crowd that warmed around us. I stood downstream to keep her from being run over. She moved beside me to hold our place as first in line of what remained. “Don’t give another inch since we have been here the longest.” I’m impressed. We break through together hoping the masses in front of us will fill up some other car and leave us some peace.
The short lived bond is broken as she is directed to the New York City through car and I am told to follow the flow to the forward car. Ahead of me is a young man with week old clothes and a even more mature odor. Behind me was a more professional looking guy but I was not aware of this. The middle aged female coach attendant gave the young man a window seat and reached for the next stub. She looked behind me then looked me in the eyes. She smiles and I smile back. She tore off a new seat assignment slip putting me together with the career fireman from Wisconsin.
Small favors make all the difference.
