If you have ever wondered what it would be like to travel from Chicago to New York City first class on an Amtrak train, this post is for you.

Departure

Aunt Linda and Uncle Buddy dropped me off at Union Station in downtown Chicago. The door I entered led to a cavernous room made of stone and marble that did not disappoint. It was filled with stone and marble and pillars and homeless people.

I had trouble checking in with the automated system so I went to the front desk. The system works just like the airport’s: you stand in line and eventually, “someone will help the next waiting passenger.”

About this time, people began addressing me as “Mr. O’Hara.” Apparently, the purchase of any sleeping room, no matter how small, qualifies you as a first class passenger. “Mr. O’Hara, are you familiar with the first class lounge?” No, Mr. O’Hara was not, but at the moment Mr. O’Hara is standing amongst a sea of scary looking people, half of which are travelling to New Orleans and the other half I think live at the train station. Mr. O’Hara would very much like to move to the lounge.

The lounge reminded me of one of the lounges on our last cruise ship. It was big, filled with lots of cheap furniture made to look expensive and multiple partitions to break the single large area up into multiple smaller areas. The lounge has several flat screen televisions, comfortable chairs, and refreshments. Does Mr. O’Hara know about the wine and cheese tasting (for first class passengers only) that will take place on the train between 7:30pm and 9pm? No, but I will definitely be there, as Mr. O’Hara rarely passes up a chance to drink alcohol on someone else’s dime.

Boarding

At 7:30pm, an announcement was made for all first class passengers to begin boarding. I grab my bags and get in line. We walk out the door and suddenly we’re outside. Everything is painted either light gray or dark gray, with yellow lines showing you where not to stand. There’s water dripping from the overhang even though it’s not raining outside. Everything is wet and damp and I feel like any wrong turn could lead me to a sewer entrance. After a very brief walk (2 minutes), we reach our train. The guy standing outside the train tells me “Car 12, Room 5,” so that’s where I go.

When I get to Car 12, Room 5, it’s filled with stuff. There are 3 bundles of newspapers, at least a dozen pillows, and all kinds of crap. I immediately start asking people around me, “are your rooms full of crap?” They say no. When someone in an Amtrak uniform comes by, I start to ask him if this was normal but before I could get the question out he says, “what are you doing in there? That’s not your room! Get out of there!” I show him my ticket and, turns out, I’m Car 11, Room 7. The guy outside the train looked at the wrong ticket. So then I leave and go to my new room.

The hallways of the train are so narrow that I can’t imagine any two adults of the opposite sex passing one another without conceiving a child. And there’s no way even a premature baby could get past me in the hallway. Before I go to my room I look down the hall to make sure the coast is clear. I feel a bit like Godzilla in a minuature town. When I turn a corner and find people there, they scatter for safety into available rooms until I pass.

Shortly after arriving in my room, “Christopher” shows up. Christopher is in charge of Car 11, so if you need anything, you go find Christopher. Christopher asks if I’m familiar with everything and when I tell him this is my first time on a train ever, he shows me how to work the A/C controls, the toilet and sink, and where the TV controls are to the TV that’s missing. “People kept stealing them, so we quit putting them back in,” he informs me.

And yeah, the room is small. For one person, it’s fine — for two, it would be tight. For two strangers it would be really uncomfortable. I’m estimating that the room is 6 1/2 foot long by about4 foot wide. Sitting in the chair, I can touch both the door and the outside window with my elbows. There’s an upper bunk that looks more like a sarcoughagus than a place to sleep, but I figured out that it moves upa nd down. Everything in the room is made to condense space.

Once I got unpacked, it was off to the wine and cheese tasting. The dining car has a dozen tables with 4 chairs each, so strangers are piled together at the same table. I sat with Margaret, a widow from Boston who was travelling back home after visiting family and taking care of her father’s funeral arrangements in Nebraska. Margaret and I had a really good time chatting about our families and drinking wine. At the end of the meal they even gave us complimentary bottles of wine for our rooms.

We’re Moving!

I was sitting in my room working on my laptop when suddenly, the train began to move. It took us quite a while to get up to speed. According to the GPS on my phone, we did around 30mph for a while before getting outside of town and cranking up the engine. Right now, the GPS says we’re doing almost 80. Doesn’t feel like it.

Sleeping

I got tired much earlier than I thought I would, so around 10:30pm I decided to convert the two chairs into a bed. It’s a pretty simple procedure. First you put your foot on a pedal, then you push, then you fall forward on your face and scrape your shin on the pedal on your way down to the floor. Piece of cake.

It’s not until you lie down that you realize (A) the bed is not comfortable at all, and (B) this train’s a rockin’ all night long, and not in a good way. I ended up watching an entire movie on my laptop (“Batman – The Dark Knight”, which I had not seen and was great) and still couldn’t sleep. I laid (bounced around) until 1am, at which point the train stopped.

When the train stops, sometimes, the electricity in your room stops too, which is a jarring experience if you sleep using a CPAP machine like I do. Nothing says “enjoying your trip so far?” quick like waking up, gasping for oxygen. Rock.

I didn’t fall asleep until at least 2:30am, and woke up at 6:30am, not sleeping more than half an hour at any given time. On the way back, I’ll definitely skip the whole bed conversion and just sleep in the chair, sitting up. Much less work, much more confortable.

Breakfast

I had breakfast with “David,” a pilot whose eyes lit up when I told him I worked for the FAA. David’s a pilot an an ex-Army Blackhawk helicopter pilot, and boy did he have stories to tell. He also told me that he, as far as he knows, is the only person to ever been issued a certificate to pull advertising banners behind a helicopter. Really interesting guy. David works with drone helicopters and does all kinds of cool stuff. We talked a lot about planes and technology over bad eggs and cold sausage. Fun times.

The Rest

Kind of pressed for time this morning so I’ll wrap this up. Most of the rest of the trip was spent sitting in my room, watching movies on my laptop or reading. We arrived in New York’s City Penn Station almost an hour and a half early, although we had to then wait 30 minutes for the previous train to clear out.

Tonight’s update … “Welcome to New York City!”

I took several pictures looking out my train window, and added them to the gallery. I haven’t added captions yet — not that it matters because I don’t know what most of the things were, anyway. Here they are.

Train Pictures