The only way to go

For my recent trip to New York I took the train. Some time ago I swore never again to do any major driving through the Northeast, due to the relentless heavy traffic, which can produce intolerable levels of stress in me. I broke that promise to myself when I drove to Pennsylvania to attend my goddaughter's graduation -- nothing like high motivation to get you to do something you've sworn never to do -- but I was lucky in not encountering really nerve-wracking traffic until Connecticut, on my return trip. Nonetheless it is absolutely impossible to avoid nerve-wracking traffic in driving to New York, so I don't do it.

The train is a wonderful way to go. A few years ago Amtrak reinstated service between Portland and Boston -- the Downeaster -- so you can even go the whole way by train, though you must get yourself from the station the Downeaster arrives at (North Station) to one of the stations the train to New York departs from (South Station or Back Bay). You either have to go by subway, lugging your luggage and hoping you don't miss your connection, or taxi, paying that extra bit (and, if the traffic's bad, hoping you don't miss your connection). Despite this hassle, I like to take the train the whole way, enamoured of train travel as I am; but for reasons we won't go into as it would cast me in a bad light, I managed to miss the Portland-Boston train. Big trauma. However, the bus station is in the same place as the train station, and they just put me on the next bus (as the woman behind the counter said reassuringly, "Somebody misses the train every day); the bus station in Boston is right next door to South Station, so making my connection was painless, and from then on it was a very pleasant trip.

But not, of course, perfect. Perfection is, we are told, reserved for the next life. (If there's no next life that means there is no per-fection anywhere which makes you wonder, why do humans even have that concept?!) In the Things Could Be Better Dept.: the cafe car had no Diet Coke, only Pepsi. I do not like Pepsi at all -- and am deeply offended by places that assume they are interchangeable, and serve you the one when you've ordered the other -- so was forced to consume water with my hot dog. I do realize that my dilemma is no worse than that suffered by those (surely few) souls out there who prefer Pepsi, every time they encounter a place that carries only Coke. Nonetheless, since Coke is vastly more popular in this country than Pepsi, I really think the cafe car should offer it. I was going to say as much in the online survey I answered when I returned from my trip (because of the promised chance at $500 free travel), but there was never a place for such input.

In the Pleasant Surprises Dept., the cafe car served the best kind of hotdogs there are, Hebrew National.

I was, happily, traveling on the Quiet Car, so was not bothered by people jabbering away on their cell phones or holding noisy conversations with one another. For me and people like me (who ask the dental hygienist to turn off the T.V. that is always running in each of the work cubicles at the dentist's office), the person who first thought of having a Quiet Car on trains was a genius.

At one point a woman sitting a few seats back from me did start jabbering away, in Spanish, on her phone. I got up, walked back, and politely but firmly said, "Excuse me, you're not supposed to use your phone on this car." There are signs hanging from the ceiling saying this, as well as paper notices in each empty seat; the conductor also announces this when the train first starts, and at any stop where a lot of people get on. However, this woman waves me away with "This is an emergency." Since the woman had been laughing and talking in a cheerfully animated way I was quite sure this wasn't true, but it didn't occur to me at the time to say, "Even if it's an emergency, you need to go to another car to use your phone."

Almost immediately, two different men went back to attempt to shut her up. One of them, shaking the printed notice at her, said, "Are you stupid? Can't you read?" The woman had plunked her large suitcase down in the space next to her, as she could not lift it to the rack overhead and apparently was not trusting enough to leave it in the large-luggage area at the back; one of the angry men went so far as to carry this suitcase off to that area. I think this action more than anything got the woman off her phone, though she was spitting "You shut up! You stupid!" at the same time.

The irony of making a noisy stink on the Quiet Car because someone was not being quiet enough seemed not to occur to these two gentlemen. I also thought how un-Maine-like their behavior was; no question these guys lived in Boston, or New York, or some other big city where aggressive behavior is the norm, and often necessary for 1) self-protection and 2) to get results. It took a few minutes for a sense of calm and serenity to reinstate itself in the car, but then I was able to go back to gazing out the window, dozing, and reading. Yes, sir, the only way to go.