20 January 2008

That time finally rolled around. The alarm went off at 5:30 and I promptly went back to sleep – but fortunately only for a few minutes. After rising, getting things together, having breakfast, performing ablutions (sounds better than saying showering, cleaning teeth and all those other necessary things each morning), I was ready – and Jennifer arrived to pick me up just before I switched all the other computer gear off. I put my bags into her car, we set off and then I remembered to go back and switch everything off.
After that auspicious start, nothing could go wrong. Arrival at the airport was in plenty of time, so I checked my luggage in. The good news was my suitcase was only 20 kg. The bad news was my backpack was 3 kg over, so I had to suddenly decide what to take out and what was dispensible if my luggage was mislaid for a time. That decision was made, the suitcase went, and the very helpful attendant who couldn’t get me a window seat then told me the plane was not due to leave until 1:25 (instead of 12:20). The first (for me) that followed was I read all of the Sunday papers, both of them, cover to cover. Then it was to passport control (no problems) and the backpack was weighed again. It was marginally over, but a blind eye was turned (as I chucked the papers before I boarded the aircraft anyway). Then screening came up, I emptied all my pockets – and the new bum bag I had bought from Salamanca markets, proudly made in Australia, broke the stitching on a strap – a good idea gone west before I even boarded the aircraft. For the first time ever I went through without setting the detectors off – or without being questioned about what I had on me! The half-hour epic of previous flights became a non-event.
With a lot of time to spend in the departure lounge, I edited the travel supplements and posted off some relevant pages to Fran. I did most of the Sunday puzzles. Then I got to chatting with couple from Chicago who came out to watch the tennis and were going to do so again in two years. It was a very interesting chat with Ferry and Yolande and when the boarding call was made (for the unfortunates at the blunt end of the plane) and I went to line up, Ferry graciously gave me the book he had been reading (and, I hope, finished). On the plane, after going through three separate passport checks (I now know why unemployment has dropped in Australia – all the unemployed are now employed checking passports!) I was on the aisle, next to two young ladies – Kate, a graduate of commerce from RMIT University and her friend Sarah, a current student of commerce from RMIT University. They were off for a long holiday – but, when we swapped notes, not as long a holiday as mine. We finally departed Melbourne Airport at about 2 p.m.
What can I tell you about a flight of nearly 13 hours, in a seat designed by the Marquis de Sade to inflict insidious torture on anyone over two years of age, more than 50 cm around the waist or more than one metre in height? Nothing really – what happened on the plane stayed on the plane, but the food was edible, the ground speed exceeded 1000 km/hour for long periods and the turbulence was a) sufficient to give Sarah motion sickness, b) enough to cause all walkers to look as if they were dipsomaniacs and c) violent enough to ensure clothes packed with soap powder would have been more than “whiter than white”.
We landed in Los Angeles not long after 9 (local time) and then had to queue to get to an airbridge. The passengers had to queue to get off the plane and show passports again. We then queued to go through Immigration Control. Here an airline employee checked to make sure we had all filled out our forms fully – full marks to that lady! At Immigration a quick passport check (ok), place of residence for first night (an Amtrak Train, but I didn’t know which one yet – that caused consternation for a short time, but I couldn’t lie and put a fictitious address in, could I), fingerprints (took two goes to get it right – never done it before) and a picture (well, two goes there) and I was through. After declaring my vegemite and pins for gifts to people I meet, I went straight through after collecting my suitcase – and was out of formalities within a minute or so (and for once, my luggage beat me out!).
A quick enquiry to Travellers Aid and I waited out the front for a “Union Station” bus at the green FlyAway sign. The bus arrived within a few minutes and I was on. After pickups at the other terminals we were off.
Entering the bus was okay as I entered from the kerb, but once on the bus something was wrong – that was it, the driver was on the wrong side. No, this is the US, I just have to get used to it. For over 20 minutes we travelled along freeways and then arrived at Union Station. After paying the $4 fare I collected my baggage (I already had US currency from Australia, so that was no hassle). Despite the information from AMTRAK with my pass saying I could book at stations, the assistant there didn’t want to know so I was off to a payphone to ring. JULIE, the automated system, had trouble with my accent and requests, but a real person (Zac) was able to assist me in no time flat. I booked from Los Angeles to New Orleans, overnight, then New Orleans to Washington. I was going to go the other way, but the train had already left to Seattle for the day. I then went back to the station desk and collected the tickets and got useful information about the station and surroundings from the assistant.
I sat and read while observing those around me. LA County Sheriffs drove by in their electric buggy. The ornate and spacious Union Station waiting room was a sight in itself, but the passing parade of humanity was distracting me. A young coupe asked if I could take their photo, then reciprocated by taking mine. At just after 2, I answered the call of the Sunset Limited (and the Texas Eagle) and joined the queue (and you thought the English has a predilection for queues!) to join the queue walking to Track 10 (not Track 29, this was NOT the Chattanooga Choochoo) to join the queue for the car to New Orleans. I got a window seat (hurrah) and found it had a power point, so charged the camera batteries (which had gone flat, you guessed it, when I went to take a photo of Kate and Sarah). The window seat was upstairs (luggage, toilets, etc. downstairs) so I got more exercise taking the luggage up. Do you have any idea of how heavy 17 kg becomes when carrying it up a narrow stairway? The train eased its way out of the station at 2:30 and promptly paused as the last carriage left the platform. After that, we were on our way. I went to the observation/cafeteria car (observation upstairs, cafeteria downstairs) and observed. And took photos. And then got something to eat and drink.
I had deliberately chosen to go “coach”, i.e. seats rather than sleeper, here so I could meet real people. And so I met Ron and LaVonne, from Iowa, and we had a most interesting discussion about LA (size and appearance), motor vehicles and performance and fuel consumption and farming. The matter and tenor of the discussion changed when I was talking to Larelea from Hollywood, who was off to visit her son in Tucson.
The train then arrived in Palm Springs CA at just after 7, being scheduled to arrive at 5:06. I put my first foot on US soil here, stepping off the platform into the sand (before this, all my steps had been on paved surfaces). The station is outside the town and suggestions to walk into the centre of town are only given to those who you don’t wish to see again, as it’s in desert.
At San Antonio the train splits, with the rear two cars (one sleeper, one coach) going up to Chicago. The rest goes on to New Orleans.
One drawback of the high carriages is that sway on uneven tracks is magnified – more high turbulence conditions ahead tonight.