Texas Eagle, Oct. 2008, Part I

Pulled out of Chicago on time but things have been getting behind since. Likely we'll still be able to pull out of San Antonio out in time due to the long layover, but it's a long trip across West Texas and it doesn't take much to put us off schedule.

Wished I had brought a bottle of whiskey but I just didn't have the time or the space in my luggage.

Fairly uneventful so far into the trip. The dining car layout surprised me. Seemed more like a lounge car for a short-haul service, but the employee going over paperwork said this was a new design that Amtrak was trotting out. I'm thinking she was blowing smoke up my ass. The number of seats appeared to be much less, but cooking was going on downstairs so I'll see what we get after San Antonio when our sleeper is broke off and combined with the Sunset Limited going to Los Angeles.

Our car attendant is working two sleepers, ours and a transition sleeper for employees in front that's also carrying some paid passengers as well. Amtrak's usual rule of thumb is to place sleepers at the ends so coach passengers aren't traipsing through all the time on their way to the lounge or dining cars. It's not uncommon for them to pair up sleepers in a row, but since this train will be broken up in San Antonio, things are arranged by what will continue on to the coast, and what will stay behind for the return trip to Chicago.



Almost two hours late out of Little Rock. Been up for about an hour. Got a connection in St. Louis, but our stop there was brief.

Just pulled through Malvern, Ark. and I thought I just noticed the first Christmas lights of the season, but it turned out to be a big pumpkin with a blinking Jack-O-Lantern face. Pal Rory Freeman, whose birthday falls on Halloween and always goes out for such decorations would have loved to have gotten his hands on that.

Breakfast is in a half-hour and am looking forward to having grits, now that I saw they are a menu item. Potatoes on the train can be disappointing, so grits is a good way to go, that is if you like them.

Dinner last night was a Angus burger with bacon and cheese, simple and direct, with cheesecake for dessert. At the dining table I got paired up with a dude going to St. Louis who hadn't rode sleeper before so I clued him in on what he could order without an extra charge and talked him into steak and potato. He was pleased.

Scenes from a dead station in Texarkana.

11:27am - Stuck in Longview, Texas about two-and-a-half hours late. We caught up to only being an hour behind, but then we got stuck behind a freight that was having mechanical troubles. Pulled in here about 45 minutes ago and now we are waiting to hook up two private cars to the end of the train. Unsure of when we'll get going and how late we'll be getting into San Antonio. My biggest concern is that somehow we end up getting down there so late, the Sunset Limited will be unable to wait any longer and proceed without us. The last time I had that happen, coming from the west to San Antonio, they herded us into chartered Greyhounds and bussed us to Fort Worth to catch up with the train. Considering what I paid for this sleeper, anything less would not be welcome.

After breakfast with my neighbors across the hall I killed some time watching Indiana Jones 4, then afterwards ended in a political discussion with said neighbors. Usually these talks lead to no good, being that my politics are pretty much left of everything. I got off the subject for now, but I'm stuck with these folks for the duration so I hope to stay clear of most topics. I've gotten to the age where I really don't give a crap about talking politics with anybody but a handful of people who are fairly like-minded. It's kind of like my distaste for watching debates, I've made up my mind and I don't give a rat's ass if my guy does well or the other guy does not. It doesn't change my vote. It's a fairly black-and-white world for me and I have no time, patience, or respect for anyone who hasn't grasped the difference between Jim and Joe and still need to make up their minds.

Oh it's going to be a long ride.

Crew change and refuel in Fort Worth.

6:11pm - Between Cleburne and McGregor. Running about two-and-a-half hours behind so my fears of having to ride the “dog” were unfounded, but I don't think I'll getting early enough into San Antonio to quaff a brew with “Terrible” Tom Suk tonight. All I can hope for is a timely arrival coming back through in a week.

I can't imagine anything delaying us from leaving San Antonio on time. Well, no, I can imagine, a lot. But I'm slightly hopeful. West Texas though is a long, long way and with a scheduled trip of eleven-and-a-half hours to El Paso anything is possible.

I wish the train portion of my trip had more interesting details to pass on, but it seems that things really don't liven up until I get to the destination, or I've downed a beer or two. I quaffed some overpriced Labatt's on tap back in O'Hare World, so why should I balk at laying a fiver down for a bottle of Bud? Or snag a half-bottle of merlot for twelve bucks? Why didn't I pack hootch? Am I getting too old and fat. I'd gladly sacrifice the sit-down meals Amtrak offers for a Hebrew National and a beer from the snack bar. But, no, no trade-offs. I asked. Likely a decision made by some corporate pencil-pushers looking to save a buck through the economy of paperwork, rather than some unknown dirt-head trading in the 22 dollar steak for four Coors Light and a bag of chips, and getting a little belligerent and/or vomit-y. Coors Light: goes down easy, comes up smooth. Silver Bullet indeed.

Photography along the way has been limited by the shitty quality of my sleeper windows, all scratched up and such. And besides the really good stuff don't come up until past San Antonio. And as I found out last year in New Mexico there's only so many photos you can take of bluffs and mesa, until all your left with is a bunch of pictures of the same old thing, not unlike breeders with their volumes of photos dedicated to their crotch-fruit. Is this a generational thing?

You know when I grew up my family documented jack. Of course we led wholly unremarkable, pathetic lives punctuated only by domestic strife. Oh, Daddy tipped over Mom's bed with her in it. Mom stabbed me with a can-opener. Look, Father needs help getting to the bathroom so he can spew Schlitz. I just took a melamine bowl, cracked it upside my head, and tried to carve into my forehead with a shard just to spite Mom. Good times. A shame we didn't document those precious moments.

But whom am I to be critical? I'm plastering the minutiae of my own existence on a blog. I'm taking pictures of my food, for Ra's sake. Perhaps I should follow up with portraits of my stool? A log blog! Oh wait, I forgot, there's RateMyPoo.com. There not only can I post a pic of my loaf, but can leave it up to the collective intelligence of the World Wide Web to note the quality of my submission, or emission would be the better term.