Aboard the Broadway Limited-Somewhere out there in the midnight blackness is the state of Ohio, big and flat and a tremendous pain in the wrong place to drive across. It`s different riding on Amtrak`s No. 40, the Broadway Limited, though. How long Ohio is doesn`t even seem to matter. What matters is that it is late, late at night, the boys and their mother are fast asleep, and the sense of being on a train is just beginning to set in.
Trains had a well-deserved, horrible reputation in the United States for many years, generally because the people who ran the railroads were a lot more interested in freight than in passengers. The service was awful. The condition of the passenger cars was awful. The whole business was awful, from the ”slow orders” that had passenger trains creeping along decrepit lengths of tracks to dismal conditions of the train stations to the filth that built up in the train on a long trip.
I used to ride a train about once a month from Harrisburg, Pa., to Philadelphia, where I had located the world`s greatest dentist. The train ride didn`t cost much then (early 1970s) because it wasn`t worth much. This was long after the Pennsylvania Railroad had been merged with the New York Central and the amalgam had been looted into a deep, hopeless bankruptcy. I would never have even considered a train ride from Chicago to Harrisburg in those days. It would have been too uncomfortable.
Thoughts in the night
It`s not like that anymore, and as a railroader`s kid, it is warming to realize that 10 or 12 hours in a passenger car can actually be kind of pleasant, once you settle down and get your feet stretched out and start to think in time with the clicking of the rails. The middle of the night is a very good time to think, a time to recognize why so many blues songs are set way after dark, in the lonely hours between midnight and sunrise.
The Broadway Limited is Amtrak`s modern version of a legendary old train that once ripped along between New York and Chicago, defining the best of rail service in an era long before most travelers would opt for the discomfort, but high speed, of air travel. To get into that middle-of-the-night mood on Amtrak, you have to pretend that there is a huge steam engine up front, black with a big brass bell, connected to a black coal tender with big yellow Pennsylvania Railroad letters on the side.
This train is more than full. A California-Chicago train was three hours late and most of its passengers missed their connection, so they clambered aboard the Broadway Limited at Union Station in Chicago to find sitting, or standing room, wherever they could. For $462 round-trip, the five members of my family had reserved reclining seats from Chicago to Altoona, Pa., with a return from Harrisburg. Most of the standees crammed into the lounge car for the long ride east.
But that was hours ago, 8:30 p.m. CDT, to be precise. Now it is 2 a.m. EDT and time for a little walk. There is nothing quite like a little walk on a fast train. There are no bumps, of course, but as the tons of steel rock and roll down the track, it takes the railroad equivalent of sea legs to move from the coach cars up front back to the lounge car. Once you get the flow of it, it`s not bad. But it`s hard to avoid the thoughts of what it would be like if you actually fell into that fat man snoring away as the Broadway Limited carried him to Philadelphia. Or what would happen to your plastic cup of coffee if one of the lurches pitched you across the aisle and into the college students fast asleep.
We are all `coach`
It is not completely dark, of course. There are little glowing lights on the baggage racks, and they cast the faintest hint of warmth on the sleeping passengers. They all seem so quiet and so comfortable in the middle of the night, their bodies shifted and settled into the diagonal position provided by the big reclining seats. Some of the older loungers have nice leg rests that unfold from beneath the seat. All of these people are members of the same, clearly identifiable class, the coach class. In the weak nightlight, they are not black or white, rich or poor. They are simply coach class. People who want to spend more money call early and reserve sleeper berths, which are comfortable and private.
The lounge car and the diner car are the end of the train, for all practical walking purposes. Behind the diner, the sleeper cars begin, and they seem to demand a privacy that simply doesn`t exist in coach class, so you don`t try to move even another step toward the end of the train. At this hour, the diner is closed and the lounge car, about half seats and half bar, is all shining stainless steel. It stopped selling drinks and very strong, good coffee at 11 p.m. or so, but the standees and California squatters are having a good time swapping comaraderie for comfort, playing cards, talking, or just sprawled out on the available seats. So it`s back to coach class.
Of course, there are still problems in the world of riding coach.
One of them is that it is difficult to figure out what to do with your arms while you try to sleep on a train. Flat on your back, particularly for those of us coach-class people who are ”big,” they don`t feel right resting alongside the body. Cross them on your chest and it`s like being dead and on display in a coffin. They fall asleep and tingle. Folding the hands on the lap seems to work for a while. Turning on your side is very uncomfortable. One successful tactic (if you are a large male) is to hook your thumbs through the belt loops on your pants and strive not to think about your arms. None of this is the railroad`s problem, of course. It`s a design flaw in people.
The other problem is a little delicate. Drink enough coffee or alcohol on the train and, before you know it, it will be time to visit the bathroom. It may not be a problem in the women`s rest room, but aim is most certainly a problem in the men`s room. There is a reason why the floor is rubber and everything else is stainless steel. That way, they can just hose it down after each run. It is best to complete all bathroom visits on a train very early in the trip, because you are most certainly not going to like what you find toward the end.
And where does it go once you step on the stainless steel flusher device? Some blue stuff swirls out and the whole package appears to leave the train for deposit on the railroad ties beneath. As a kid, I spent my share of time walking those ties, counting them off and keeping an eye and ear out for fast freights. So that`s why you can`t flush while the train is near or standing at a station? Disgusting.
Finally, food.
You can buy it on the train or you can bring it on the train. Bringing it is definitely a lot cheaper. Peanut-butter sandwiches, cheese, apples, oranges, mineral water, crackers, they are all good carry-on train foods and served us well on the trip east. On the return west, it was bagels, Lebanon and sweet summer bologna (a Pennsylvania Dutch delicacy), cheese, more water and fruit and crackers. Dinner hours should never be observed on the train for those who carry their food with them. Eat when you are hungry and enjoy it.
A food review
The menu looked pretty good for the dining-car passengers, but the only meal we tested was breakfast, both ways. Eastbound, the ”Railroad French Toast,” thick slices crispy on the outside and dusted with powdered sugar, was very good. The people who served it were real railroad pros and very pleasant. Maybe you find what you want to find on these trips, but the dining car staff both ways was terrific. Westbound, the eggs over easy were perfect, served with fried potatoes and lots of coffee. But the informal food testers were not so impressed with the French toast going west. It was a little soggy. That didn`t matter, anyhow.
Eastbound, much of the scenery from Pittsburgh to Altoona was actually inspiring, although it became apparent that a lot of people have dumped a lot of trash, including quite a collection of old appliances, along the main line over the years. It was too foggy to get a good view as the train rounded the Horseshoe Curve and headed into the long downhill glide into Altoona, a drop in altitude that so strained the brakeshoes on the old freights and passenger trains that they glowed red with heat.
Westbound from Harrisburg, the middle son nearly spilled his orange juice when he saw a fox trotting through a field. Earlier in the trip, he spotted a dozen deer on a hillside along the Juniata River, just after the Limited had crossed the world`s longest stone-arch railroad bridge over the Susquehanna River at Rockville, Pa. And watching the Indiana sunrise from a seat in the train`s dining car was genuinely impressive.
There were some delights, too.
Someone put a lot of money into restoration of the old railroad station in Harrisburg, and the effort was worth every penny. It is all oak paneling and woodwork, with the burgundy and gold colors of the old Pennsylvania Railroad adding a patina of real railroad history to the scene.
And the view of Chicago from 28 miles out was spectacular on the brilliant Saturday morning of our return home. That last half hour on the train was that much more interesting because one of the conductors had taken the trouble to learn about every steel mill and point of interest along the industrial belt that leads into the city.
He provided a little historical context for what normally would have been a bleak ride through industrial America, and his unexpected travelogue seemed the perfect ending for a long, but interesting, ride on a train that seems to be working hard to get its old pride back.
