Between Trains
Monday, August 4th, 2008 11:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rolanniHere we are at Chicago Union Station, which has acquired wifi since the last time we were through. Huzzah! Boy, those guys are just made of getting in trouble, aren't they?
So, the road... We left Maine two hours early basically because we were packed and we could and we figured we'd work in the Rensselaer train station, having done so before, and because Amtrak had told us to arrive early in order to change out our tickets, because they had to add a car and our old ticket information was no good.
As I say, we left Maine, two hours early. And arrived at the station just in time to have a frenzied time getting our tickets changed and our bag checked before a brief breather and then boarding.
Rain, in buckets, bathtubs, and battleships, was part of the delay,though not the greatest part. That was courtesy of the foresightful planning of the Massachusetts Department of Transportation, which decided that High Tourist Season was the best time to deconstruct the toll plazas on MassPike. We were involved in -- two? three? -- miles' long backups on the approach to toll plazas, only to zip through ahead of everyone when the route to the EZPass booth opened. Breaking ahead of the pack, we'd zoom off, free as the breeze -- until the next toll booth.
Aboard the train, we found that we weere scheduled by fiat for the 8:30 dinner seating; the dining room manager promised to send someone to us when a table opened up. When that hadn't happened by 8:30, we took ourselves down three cars to the dining car, and encountered a scene of chaos.
We and the other folks promised 8:30 seatings -- mind you, the dining car closed at 9:30 -- were in fact seated within twenty minutes of our arrival, and then sat, conversing with our pleasant tablemates, Lucy and her dad, for one half hour before our waiter came by to get our order. At this point, having taken the temperature of the room, Steve and I decided that the better part of eating would be to order a pair of sandwiches to take back to our room. Which we did. And which arrived in another twenty minutes.
We finished up dinner around 11 o'clock, and so to bed.
Breakfast was much less frenzied, due to the fact that we were the third and fourth customers to arrive in the dining car. We're on our own for lunch, here in the station, and will dine, hopefully somewhat less chaotically, on the California Zephyr, on the last leg of our journey to Denver.
More later, as can.
So, the road... We left Maine two hours early basically because we were packed and we could and we figured we'd work in the Rensselaer train station, having done so before, and because Amtrak had told us to arrive early in order to change out our tickets, because they had to add a car and our old ticket information was no good.
As I say, we left Maine, two hours early. And arrived at the station just in time to have a frenzied time getting our tickets changed and our bag checked before a brief breather and then boarding.
Rain, in buckets, bathtubs, and battleships, was part of the delay,though not the greatest part. That was courtesy of the foresightful planning of the Massachusetts Department of Transportation, which decided that High Tourist Season was the best time to deconstruct the toll plazas on MassPike. We were involved in -- two? three? -- miles' long backups on the approach to toll plazas, only to zip through ahead of everyone when the route to the EZPass booth opened. Breaking ahead of the pack, we'd zoom off, free as the breeze -- until the next toll booth.
Aboard the train, we found that we weere scheduled by fiat for the 8:30 dinner seating; the dining room manager promised to send someone to us when a table opened up. When that hadn't happened by 8:30, we took ourselves down three cars to the dining car, and encountered a scene of chaos.
We and the other folks promised 8:30 seatings -- mind you, the dining car closed at 9:30 -- were in fact seated within twenty minutes of our arrival, and then sat, conversing with our pleasant tablemates, Lucy and her dad, for one half hour before our waiter came by to get our order. At this point, having taken the temperature of the room, Steve and I decided that the better part of eating would be to order a pair of sandwiches to take back to our room. Which we did. And which arrived in another twenty minutes.
We finished up dinner around 11 o'clock, and so to bed.
Breakfast was much less frenzied, due to the fact that we were the third and fourth customers to arrive in the dining car. We're on our own for lunch, here in the station, and will dine, hopefully somewhat less chaotically, on the California Zephyr, on the last leg of our journey to Denver.
More later, as can.
