Monday, April 6, 2009

Day 12 "Show Me The Way To Go Home!"

I wake up with the skies lightening somewhere near Erie Pennsylvania, and head to the diner car. Not as glamorous as the Empire Builder, to say the least. The Lake Shore Limited means "Limited" in many ways, including perks. I sit down, and a dorky looking guy enters the room and promptly starts whining...

"Where's the Observation Car?"

"Right here!" I reply (holding my arms out to the cheap-looking diner car) "Observe!"

A second guy walks into the diner car wearing dread locks in his hair.

"Leo!" I say aloud to him, but I get no response. He's not Leo, but he looks like his twin. Turns out, his name is Artwon and looks like something out of Milli Vanilli. He's actually another very cool guy, and we have loads of conversation about music, art, culture. etc. Artwon had just gotten back from India, where he had been seeking spiritual enlightenment, but got his laptop stolen instead.

'Ghost Rida' (not his birth name) soon comes in, and now the house is rocking.

"Oh man! did you see the guy that got thrown off the train?"

"Ummm... No, I didn't", I reply in surprise.

He produces and iPhone picture of a U.S. Marshall escort a dark skinned man off.

"I was nervous man", Ghost Rida says.

"Why?" I ask him. "You sound like you are where you are from" (Brooklyn)

"When you is a ni**a like me, who dresses like this, shoots his mouth off, and smells like he ain't showered in six months... you gets nervous!"

This sends me off into uncontrollable laughter.

I like him.

He goes on to tell me that Hip Hop is not the only music he likes, and he is a big fan of Garth Brooks, Tim Mcgraw and Billy Ray Cyrus. He also notices something about my expression around this time.

"Why you makin' that face at me?" he asks.

I don't ask him why he likes any of those bands... but ask him if he has a website, and he says he can be reached at and I tell him I will link him up with Orange Crush.

I also warn him "don't send me any viruses."

This puzzles him, and he asks"why would I do that?"

After I explain about corrupted hard drives from bad e-mails, he relaxes a little, and laughs.

"ohhhhhh! I thought you meant the other kind of virus."

Just when you thought things could not get any crazier, a bunch of prison guards come on the train, but they are from Canada, and are heading to Boston to play in a hockey tournament for fun. They sit across from me, and ask if they serve alcohol.

I direct them to the bar car.

This should provide me with enough material for another chapter, but so far... they are well-behaved. When I step back into the lounge car, I find out through peripheral conversation that all of the Budweiser is gone! They are soon further plastered on Wisers and Smirnov. Not to worry, because these increasingly rowdy gents are being picked up by the Boston Police, who are waiting for them as escorts in South Station when they arrive (as welcome guests) for a charity hockey tournament in Boston.

We are now nearing Albany New York, and all of the NYC bound riders are getting kicked off to the other end of the train. I am able to stay however, and continue using the 120 Volt outlet to charge my laptop. Now I am having conversation with three college kids from Chicago, who are going to Boston to see the Dropkick Murphy's. I mention that I know their original guitarist, Rick Barton, and they are immediately impressed. I remember when I was like these guys. Not a care in the world, other than getting drunk, rocking out and looking for women. I am not living vicariously through them, because they are all likely sleeping on the floor tonight.

I grab my camera as we are stopped, and snap a few pictures of Albany.

A fourth gentleman is now hanging out in the lounge car. "Cliff" is from LA, and in our brief conversation between train connections, he has given me his life story. He has been kicked around by life enough times for it to show in his otherwise handsome features, looking like a shorter Johnny Knoxville from MTV's "Jackass" show.

He is simply traveling around the country, drinking Coronas... and leering at women.

"I've never been laid on a train", he exclaims lustily. The guy is a wired-up and slightly frayed ball of energy. He is staying with friends in Albany, but he has been on the train all the way from California. He played in a few bands in Napa valley ("we were a WINE band, man!") but came out of it with a nasty divorce, and no money to his name. So now he is looking for the one night stand of his dreams on a train.

But it's not going to happen for him today.

"Helllooooo.... I love youuuuu!!!!" he says through the glass door of the diner car at a pretty girl he has just spotted, but we are now separated from that end of the Lake Shore Limited, as the trip splits up for Boston and New York City. The train separates, and the other car slowly pulls away.

"Awwww! Damn it!!!" Cliff curses. "I had her!!!"

He gets so caught up in talking to me, and confessing his life's misgivings, that he forgets the train has now pulled into Albany/Rennnsalear Station and is going to leave momentarily for Pittsfield, Massachusetts.

"Oh shit! I gotta go!"

He asks me just before he shakes my hand and bolts,

"what's your name again?"

So now it is just me, my camera, my laptop, and a train full of Amtrak's finest.

I am now just one person living in the final moments of a small story - built upon a whim, and involving a little-known novel first published over 60 years ago. These moments are winding down, as I am swaying on a rattling train, slowly descending the Berkshires and picking up speed through Westfield. We are passing familiar landmarks on Route 20, and with one more stop to go... I am coming home.

Where is home?

I come to the birthplace of children's author Doctor Seuss, of Blues musician Taj Mahal, of Smith & Wesson Firearms, and of Basketball. Springfield is a city with a colorful past, an underachieving present and a questionable future. I could go on about what I think could be done to make it a more welcome city to explore and discover, without the fear of crossing paths with random violence on the way. But it marks my final stop, and for that reason, I am as glad to see it as I was to see first Eastend, Saskatchewan, Canada.

Because of the story I now get to tell everyone.

(Sun setting on Catskills and Hudson)

Day 11 "Let's Cut It" (Making a record on a train headed for Chicago)

I spent much of my time on the Montana to Chicago run recording in my sleeper cabin. Sequestered all the way in the front, away from everybody. I recoded dozens of songs, and got quite a bit of work done. I also slept very well - although I woke up every time the train stopped. There was a delay somewhere around Fargo. Just before the sun comes up, I get up for some coffee and breakfast in the diner car, and then go back to my roomette to record for several hours. Around Minneapolis, I emerge from my bunker.

Later on in Wisconsin, I take a picture of the Mighty Mississippi, as we cross over the bridge.

Around Milwaukee, there are hardly any people on the train. Because of the delays earlier in North Dakota - some people missed their connections, and would have to take a bus. I have 4 hours to wait in Chicago, so I am fine. I tip my servant, Dennis a $10 bill and a couple of guitar picks (he is a beginner on guitar, so he tells me.)

Once I make it into Chicago, I start taking tons of photos. I instinctively start walking in the direction that leads me to the "cool stuff"... and I find it!

After a few hours, I head back to Union Station, and get some Mexican food and a few beers. I call my wife, and she tells me that The Valley Advocate is running a full column about my trip, complete with photo!

I celebrate with a can of Guinness.

While at the bar, I encounter a drunk fellow named Jamie. He claims to have been a huge part of the metal scene somewhere... but has just gotten his card declined to pay his bar tab, and they are having difficulty confirming his other card. A policeman is hovering close by, and the situation is growing tense. He leaves to get some money, and almost leaves behind his iPhone. He's a mess!

I finish up my beer and decide it's time for me to get moving. I get my bags from the locker, and get aboard the train that will take me back to Springfield. As I wait in line I meet two people who are into music. One is a dreadlocked guy named Leo. He talks about Metallica and Pantera with great passion, but is heading to NYC to visit a terminally ill relative. Very sad story, but he's a nice guy, and we wait together for the line to move.

I soon meet a second guy who is a hip hop artist from Brooklyn named "Ghost Rida".

The front half of the train is for people going to Boston, and the rear is for everyone going to NYC, so I don't see those guys after we board (or so I thought... more on that later). My car is one of the older, and kind of crummy looking one's. It rocks around all over the place, and makes typing very difficult. I turn off my laptop, and fall asleep without too much problem. At this point, the rocking of the train is like being in a locomotive-powered cradle.

PICTURES can be seen at

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Day 10 - "Living The Hi Life On The Hi Line"

(Room #20)

I may never fly again!

After I spent 2 days riding coach on the way out here (and not getting a whole lot of sleep, or back, shoulder, neck, or leg comfort) I decided to upgrade my coach ticket for a sleeper cab (or "roomette"). At first, the cost of $150-$175 may seem daunting, but you have to consider a few additional perks, which you don't truly appreciate until you actually try it.

Well, let me tell you what you get, and then you can try it yourself.

First: Rather than sit with the rest of the riff-raff (which in my case, would have been a family sharing the same cold sitting next to me) and experimenting with sleeping in different positions across two uncomfortable seats, with a crease in the middle that will, without fail, find your hips or ribs at a pressure point, and render them numb (if you are lucky) - You get a private cabin, with two seats that fold into a very comfortable layout, and additional bedding and mattress that make it the best futon you have ever slept on!

Second: Rather than pay for hot dogs and nuked sandwiches at over-inflated prices (which I did coming out here on coach) - you get a FREE dinner, breakfast and lunch (my dinner alone was salmon, baked potato, salad and a peanut butter chocolate torte, which I could not finish).

Third: On a trip that lasts for over 24 hours, and leaves you momentarily shivering anytime someone comes thru the cars (and it was NINE BELOW ZERO when I left Havre Montana that afternoon) - you get a climate controlled room, complimentary water, and a door you can close, making it quiet and secure.

Fourth: when you have a battery draining away on your laptop, they provide an outlet for you to power your devices (so I can write this as long as I want!)

Fifth: Rather than stew in your own funk, after sitting in the same unchanged clothes and unwashed skin - you have a shower you can use, and upgraded bathrooms that don't look like an outdoor port-o-let at a Phish concert.

All of these things are presently making this experience much more enjoyable, as a blizzard is raging outside somewhere in Minot, North Dakota. I have a private window showing me just how miserable it is out there right now. Earlier I had an amazing view of the wildlife in Eastern Montana, as Pronghorn Antelope grazed on prairie grass.

I was enjoying the company of three women from different parts of the country. (St. Paul, Oregon, and Montana) and I split a bottle of Columbia Crest Shiraz with one of them... for $7.00) and I am living the high life.

Just thought you all should know, because the next time you find yourself on a cross country trip, and decide that the extra money is a wasteful idea... think again!

A side note: I am in the extreme front of the the train, and it is quiet as a mouse. Most of this car is reserved for the staff, but they decided to give me a roomette with them, and there is less than 1/4 of the 20 rooms taken. Hope they are not too surprised when they hear the sound of a banjo being played tomorrow somewhere in Minnesota!