At 51 years, I'd not yet ridden on a train. The older I got, the more I made sure to announce this, at the appropriate time (I'm sure), should the topic come up.
Like seeing Paris (not) or travelling Europe, I thought it something important I should absolutely do. And the sooner, the better. It had to be fun and wonderful and thoroughly romantic and exciting. Right?
I should have given it more logical thought.
Being trapped on just a few train cars with Americans, alone, should have given me obvious pause. Far too obvious. And then stuck with them for hours? Waaaayyyy too obvious. With nowhere else to go? No escaping loud, boisterous people? What a fool I was.
The thing about being on a train in America today is that, for the period of time they are on these cars, the space becomes their living room--and we're all along for the ride. Everyone else is just a strange visitor that they can--and do--ignore. Want to take off your shoes? Go ahead! Little one want to run up and down the aisle the whole trip? No problem! Want to stop him? Certainly not his parents!
Is it just me or are we all raised, young, in one era so you grow up with those earlier, stricter rules, standards and expectations, only to assume the world will live up to them later in that same life? I think it's universal but, unless we're careful, we forget that that much earlier time--and its rules--are long gone. It's no wonder people want to stay home more, the older they get. Sure, there are the physical aches and pains of travel as you age that might make you want to stay home--and then there's missing your own bed--and the peace and quiet of home. But more than anything, I think, there is the over-arching desire to not have to put up with the rest of the world's noise and needs (read: crap). We get convinced we're right and that we understand the world and, finally, that the rest of humanity is wrong, misguided, loud and obnoxious.
It gets frustrating.
It can get maddening.
And then there's the fact that the trains are run by the US government. Yi. They are poorly run, for sure. They are dirty--inside and out. They are late. They are wildly inconsistent. One conductor runs the train his way. Another, completely his own and they don't have anything in common, for instance.
So, then, we are forced to be what we don't want to be. Forced to have what we either don't have or don't want to have--that is, patient and patience.
It reminds me of an old cartoon I saw years ago. Two vultures are seen sitting in a tree. One turns to the other and says "Patience my ass. I'm gonna' kill something."
That said, I did have a good time on the trip. Can you believe it? I just don't want to go by train in the United States again.
Now, the Orient Express--that's a different matter entirely.
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