I hate the train. My options; take the train at nine and get to portland at eleven thirty, or take the bus and get there at twelve thirty. I decide to take the train. Mainly because work begins for me at noon.
I wake up at eight thirty and sweet Benjy takes me to the train station in the monsoon rain. I have no time to get ready per se, just to grab my work equipment and run out the door. I do, and I make it barely in time to board the train, which then pulls out.
No time for a cigarette.
At eleven thirty my train is in Oregon City, atill half an hour from its destination. So I think to myself, at least I will only be a little bit late. I text my ride from the station and let her know it's running late.
Then the train stops. On the wrong side of the bridge, only a mile from the station. Stops dead and sits. Sits for an hour. Then an hour and a half.
See, it's like this every time I take the train. I always forget how goddamn late they always are. I have never ridden a train that arrived on time or even anywhere near it. Part of my mind keeps insisting that the trains must go, and that they are concerned with time and schedule, but I have been driven now to the conclusion that they simply don't give a shit. I could have ridden greyhound cheaper and left an hour later, and gotten here an hour earlier...
whatever you do, do NOT ride Amtrak and expect to be on time. I wish someone had warned me, so now I am warning you.
Friday, January 20, 2006