22 years ago I set off on a cross country trip by train. I was going from Chicago to L.A.. Then up to San Francisco followed by Vancouver, B.C. I'd trace my way back by train returning home via the California Zephyr. There were certainly other objectives beyond self discovery and broadening my still immature early 20yo mind. I considered a month of trekking across country by train as the equivalent of roughing it, especially with hostels as my pit stops between cities and relatives' homes. 4 weeks is a good medium-to long travel period as well. In the next few posts, I'll attempt to log my trek daily,  based on a few journal jottings and my own recollection.

12 March 1993 departure.

I remember boarding the Amtrak superliner coach car for the Southwest Chief on a grey Friday afternoon. Mom saw me off after checking the modest, spartan accommodations- a comfortable recliner seat which would be home for my next 40 hours. I've always loved train travel, not yet having the built in memory of the romantic qualities reserved for stars in films set in sleeper coach rooms. For me the joy of motion and the scrolling countryside passing by were enough.

The first few hours of the train ride were blissful.  It was soon dark and the late winter  landscape outside my window soon took an otherworldly appearance. Harsh greenish sodium or mercury vapor lamps lit  the snow covered fields of the midwest. The outlines of barns, threshers and fences were barely visible. There was desolation, but the quality and color of the light felt strangely comforting.  I had the two coach seats in my row to myself (a benefit of long distance train travel?) and seated in front of me were a little 7yo Vietnamese girl traveling with her uncle. There was an NIU basketball athlete, Reggie seated across from me. A few rows in front of him was an auburn haired girl who resembled Guin, whom I had a strong crush on for the past couple of years. Next to her a midshipman sailor on leave had the good luck of seating privilege. The traincar conductor was a mid-40s, slight-statured, mustachioed man whom back then could be referred to as a 'chickenhawk.' He took great interest in the 13 year old country boy traveling solo, seated two rows in front of me.

The trek across the Mississippi river was a familiar one which I remembered as a kid when I visited my cousin & his family in Columbia. The first stop with a significant layover of 2 hours was Kansas City, MO. The train had to take on fuel at 3 am. The car got very cold and the blankets were barely adequate. I was young enough not to be too uncomfortable. The restarting of the engine was audible and more than welcome.

13 March 1993
The wide stretching plains of Kansas caused Reggie to quip how he would transform the landscape if he had the resources. "I look at all this empty land and I think how it should be filled with buildings, gyms, basketball courts, man" Never mind the short-sightedness of needing the demand to offset the cost. Reg was an alright character whom was the closest in age and standing to myself in the area immediately around me. He remarked "you look like someone who can fit in and adapt to any situation....just fit in normally like a regular guy." I took it as a compliment but thought to myself the same could be said of many a psychotic serial killer. We spotted the flamboyant hawkish tendencies of the train conductor right away. It brought about the clichéd mocking laughter and voice mimicking from Reg which placed him on poor standing with the official. The conductor quipped once loudly, "they don't pay me enough for what I have to do and put up with" referring no doubt to the cleaning duties for the 3 cubicle bathrooms on the first level. He took a liking to the young boy passenger seated 2 rows in front and would often be seated right next to him in country-twanged conversation. This was something that would be deemed wildly inappropriate by today's standards but in the permissive atmosphere of the early 90s , homosexuals were getting a more assertive voice in the media if not acceptance in the mainstream.

There was a  young 20-something couple in the coachcar in front of us who would frequently pass by   on the way to the lounge. On one occasion Reg intentionally partially blocked the aisle and joked with his seat partner "Ouwaw!" to make fun of the voice of the guy passing in front of his girlfriend.  The guy actually stood in the doorway after his gf went ahead, waiting as if to confront Reg on it. Nothing happened. That is the reality of long distance train travel. No real drama but a lot of posturing. The plains gave way to the reddish rock & dirt of Colorado & New Mexico. Albuquerque would be up next filled with breakdowns and delays.

(photos courtesy of owners, I had photos of my trek but not until the Coast Starlight, please bear with me)

Listening to (at that time): Angels Fallen by the Darling Buds
Reading (@that time): Rail Ventures by Jack Swanson