This week has me going to Sacramento twice. I really enjoy Sacramento, but I don’t necessarily enjoy multiple trips through those W towns, or as Daniel called it in his frequent trips back from Stockton, “pre-Corning.”
This led me to decide it was a fun idea to ride the Amtrak.
I giggled when I booked the trip and had the internet ask me, “Are you sure you don’t want to protect your $36 trip?”
I’m sure. I’ll risk it.
Of course me running my mouth about how funny this led directly to me learning that I’d messed up my return trip date and now was, indeed, out $18 extra.
There’s only one train in and out of Redding daily. It heads south at 2:30 am and leaves back from Sac at midnight. The technical term for this is “a long ass day.”
Me and my “long ass day” backpack worth of belongings headed to the heart Redding in the dark of the night only to have several delays. I hung out in downtown, met some characters, and learned a valuable tidbit about trains, they share the track.
Sooooo, when the northbound train had to stop and address a medical crisis, the ride to Sac had to wait. The medical crisis included 2 Amtrak employees in adorable hats talking to a man who’d been kicked off the same train a week and a half ago for the same circumstances; being unconscious to the point of unable to be woken.
There do not seem to be confidentiality rules for train behavior. As one cute hat guy met with the dude and paramedics, the other cute hat dude told us all there is to know about him. No one asked, but we got it anyway. Eventually they put the dude-less stretcher back in the ambulance and got the train moving.
Choosing a seat on the train is way worse than getting a seat at the middle school cafeteria or on a plane. Trains being as reasonably priced as they are invite a cast of characters. Those characters sleep (or fake sleep) over several seats at a time. As I found myself wandering seatless, I decided I should probably not get myself incarcerated because I wasn’t particularly interested in rousing someone and demanding they share their spot.
To the observation lounge I went.
At 3 am, there’s nothing to observe outside but lots to try not to observe inside.
It was terribly cold. I had considered bringing a blanket, but didn’t want to carry one around all day in Sac. Rember that episode of Friends when Joey wears all of Chandler’s clothes? That’s what I looked like when I was cold enough I put my work clothes on over my workout clothes for warmth. I looked legitimately unhoused, which didn’t exactly make me stand out in downtown Sac.
Sitting as long as I did, I was compelled to walk a lot. 9 miles worth.
I learned a lot about prostitution pricing as I waited in line at the 7-11 to buy a banana. I also learned from a man walking to work about Joe Biden smoking crack. (And that’s why work man shouldn’t have to pay taxes.) I decided he probably couldn’t tell I was a government worker and there was no need to tell him I was on my way to a cookie laden symposium on policies. I also learned that I have resting “ask me directions” face. I don’t know why I was asked for directions a bunch. Clearly they couldn’t tell I’d just gotten lost on a muthafuck’n train when I tried to get back to my seat.
I enjoyed my time at the event and after. I like walking around, trying new restaurants, visiting gyms in new towns. Shout out to the gym worker who was super nice and didn’t charge me the day pass fee.
Then it was back to the Sacramento Valley Station to wait for my midnight train back.
Here’s the thing about train travel; the only requisite is that at some point the passenger had $18. This leaves a LOT of room for interesting folks to be sharing your space.
Not to make light of mental health challenges at all, but if you’ve wondered what real MH struggle looks like, go to the train station. Several folks were really going through it. One lady kept yelling a lot of random things. At one point she was yelling at me accusing me of murder. Nobody (including myself) cared. Train station things, I guess.
Eventually we’re lined up and assigned cars in which to sit. Train guy told us to put our tickets above our seats so he can make sure we get off at the right place in case we fall asleep.
I didn’t. Because I’m tough? No.
Because the only spot available when I got on was next to my accuser.
I mean, I maybe could have fought another crazy person and made them move their service dog. Or woke up the dude who smelled strongly of piss who was yelling out in his sleep. But since we’ve already established I’m not pod boss material, I chose to sit next to Maybe Marjy.
Train seats aren’t spacious. So for the duration I heard her every word to Marjy, Doty, Satan, and the rest of the ensemble. She would gag every couple minutes and loudly proclaim that demons were cast out of her. She used her cane like a sword to defend herself from things I didn’t see and I just hoped I didn’t get in her way or look demonic in any way. She talked of hidden bodies and “he’ll never do that again.” I’m assuming she was 67 by the way she kept yelling about a 67 year old woman. Non stop yelling.
What do cute train hat staff members do about all the yelling from her and the others in the rolling psych ward? Nothing.
The whole thing felt surreal, like it was on the verge of horrific catastrophe just waiting for one little thing to go just wrong enough to blow up the whole unit/train car in a domino effect of psychosis. I kept hoping she’d tire out and fall asleep. She was working hard fighting those things that weren’t there, but somehow she didn’t need sleep.
I felt for her and for the rest of them and their loved ones. I was relieved to get home and for the first time in years, I slept beyond sunrise.
The train was totally worth it and I’m thankful I got to go on the adventure. But ain’t no fucking way I’m taking it again this week. (Bwah!)
Thanks for reading!
Bifocals and Barbells 