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Fulfilling the Amtrak Dream

The seat was wide and comfortable, with more than enough space in front to go full stretch without any problem. A small panel on the side had outlets to plug in your device(s). The window was huge, and the ceiling was high. At long last, I was finally fulfilling my lifelong dream of riding the famous Amtrak of America. It took off exactly on schedule, 5:45 p.m., if I remember correctly, from the cavernous Philadelphia station.

It was the start of a journey that began with my reaching New York fifteen days earlier. Unlike the last time I landed at Kennedy Airport, some years ago, when things weren’t that automated, this time around, we had to have our passports machine-read in an automatic kiosk. I wasn’t familiar with this, and because I was carrying two passports (the old one with the visa, and the new machine readable passport, that is, MRP) things became a little complicated for me, with several sorry’s having to be endured before finally getting the all-clear.

So, naturally, by the time I handed over my machine-read slip to the immigration guy, all my co-passengers had already left the airport. I didn’t see anybody at the baggage carousel, which was going around empty, my bags nowhere in sight. Fortunately, a baggage handler pointed out a group of bags at one corner, and yes, my bags were among them. Relieved, I fed a five dollar bill into the trolley dispenser, and loaded my bulging suitcases on one. Why were they bulging? That’s another story, and which gave me a lot of problems back in Kathmandu, because I nearly had to pay a hefty excess baggage fee.

But, like I said, that’s another story. Really, international travel over long distances is bound to be pretty adventurous, don’t you think? This time, I flew from Kathmandu to Istanbul to New York. I would have flown on to Philadelphia, my immediate next destination, but somebody was coming to pick me up, so I drove the four hours to my destination, where I spent the next fifteen days. Of course, I did move around quite a bit, to Maryland, Washington, Delaware, and so on. Then, it was time to say goodbye to wintry Philly and travel to Orlando in the sunshine state of Florida.

Ordinarily, I would have flown, because that’s the easiest way to reach point ‘b’ from point ‘a’ in good ol’ U.S.A. That’s what most people do. However, this time around (after two previous trips to the States) I was hell-bent on riding the Amtrak, come what may. So, I booked a ticket online, it cost around 136 dollars (this was a week or so before X’mas, otherwise it would have been double that amount the closer the days to the big day). Since I was living in West Goshner, I had to catch a Philly-bound Amtrak first to reach Philadelphia. Took an hour, or so, but the train was so damn comfortable, I enjoyed the journey.

I disembarked at the 30^th Street Station, a major junction for Amtrak, where I had to wait for an hour or so for my next Amtrak to Kissimmee in Orlando, my final destination. The huge statio  nlounge was well-occupied with many passengers bound for different destinations. I checked in my two suitcases at the baggage check-in counter, and felt free as a bird. A large ticker gave continuous information on incoming and outbound trains, and fifteen minutes before embarking, passengers were asked over a speaker to line up at the entrances leading to the cavernous station one floor below. I waited impatiently, as you can imagine, excited as I was to take off on a night of adventure on a long-distance Amtrak, and really and truly fulfill a long cherished dream.

Finally, my time came, and I lined up with others in front of the stairs going down. A uniformed usher checked our tickets and let us pass. The station below was darker than above, and because it was open space, the air was freezingly cold. Anyway, we didn’t have to wait long; our Amtrak glided in gracefully, and we started boarding. The usher gave me a seat number, and I walked through the long and spacious cabin to my seat. It was like sitting in a business class seat on a plane, so comfortable was the seating arrangement. I was delighted, because I’ve often been disappointed at discovering that the reality does not always live up to my high expectations.

I settled down, my laptop plugged in and sitting comfortably on the fold-out table, my smartphone on charge, and the seat beside me, vacant. I stretched out my legs, and taking off my boots, rested my feet on the footrest. Heavenly! I was very happy indeed at my state of comfort, and a feeling of great wellbeing swept through my body. Amtrak was living up to every expectation of mine. One has to admire America for many things, and one of them is the spaciousness it provides in almost every sphere of human activity. The restaurants have more than enough chairs and tables to sit all who come in, the buses are huge and capacious, the roads are really wide, including the pavements, the parks are expansive, and Amtrak trains are big and beautiful.

At exactly the appointed hour, to the second, our train started moving. It was already getting dark outside, so I couldn’t see much, even if the window was as wide as could be. Perhaps the dawn would bring in some great sights, I thought. For the time being, however, it didn’t matter to me. I was reveling in a feeling of achievement, and couldn’t stop congratulating myself. I was riding an Amtrak for a twenty-four journey through America! I was at long last living a dream.

After some time, I got up and strolled through the cabin, and passing through the linking doors, walked through two more cabins before arriving at the bar and restaurant, where service was provided by uniformed bartenders and waiters. The tables in the restaurant had elegant snow-white tablecloths and linen napkins and shining cutlery and dishes, and the waiters were a mature lot. I must have a meal here, that’s what went through my mind. I mustn’t miss this experience! And, so, the advent of the morn found me sitting at a table and going over the slim menu. An American breakfast, that’s what I would be having.It wasn’t that good, sorry to say, but I left a tip of a dollar and some change anyway, because if there is anything I know about America, it is that you are a barbarian if you forget to tip in a restaurant.

Anyway, the morning light through the windows of the swiftly moving train was pleasant to the senses, but unfortunately, there wasn’t much to see, as the scenery outside consisted mostly of similar-looking trees and other greenery. That’s why, when we stopped at a station, I was happy to see signs of life, such as a couple of trucks, a few people, although it wasn’t really much of a sight. After all, we were going through the ‘Deep South’ of the United States, once infamous for its slavery, and I expected to see more. However, my keen eyes did observe that many passengers getting on board along the way at various stations appeared to be the typical ‘red neck’ kind of Americans I had heard about—huge guys and huge gals, usually in jeans and flannel shirts, most of them blond and white. In the course of our journey, we passed through Washington, Maryland, Delaware, Virginia, North Carolina, and Georgia, before entering the state of Florida through Jacksonville.

While it was something I could get some self-satisfaction from—traveling through such a historical region—I must admit that I didn’t see much, if anything at all, except for the same kind of scenery mile after mile. Anyway, by and by, I finally arrived at Kissimmee, where some relatives had come to greet me, and I rode in their swanky Toyota to their home in Orlando, some twenty minutes away. And, that’s how my epic trip on an Amtrak ended.

 

A Walk to Remember

(in the USA in 2009)

My first contribution to the American economy (in America) was when I had to pay three dollars to get a baggage trolley at the Kennedy International Airport, New York. Outside of the States, of course, I had already contributed $100 towards my visa fees. Taken alone, this might not be that significant, but when taken as a part of thousands of visa applications every month, around 80% of which get rejected, one has to think that one’s $100 is part of something really big. In fact, small wonder then that the US government has built a brand new embassy back home, and I gather, is building similarly new ones in a hundred more countries around the world.

“Anyway, back to JFK International. Up to then, in most places I traveled, I had found trolleys to be part of the free airport service. My next contribution to the US economy was to have a typical (and fabled) American breakfast at Links on Tap, a restaurant near Gate Number 30, from where I was to board the Delta flight to Orlando. Called the ‘Breakfast Panini’ (bacon side) it cost me $6.99 along with $0.59 as tax—a grand total of $ 7.58. This was followed by a $ 1.61 coffee at Balducci’s, a couple of shops away.

While the breakfast was as hearty as was fabled and the water that they served with ice, as large sized as expected, I still did ruminate on the fact that it had cost me close to Rs.500 in my own country’s currency; a princely sum for a breakfast, no doubt. However, I wasn’t the sort to get raffled by such pittances. After all, I was now in America—a land I had wanted to visit for the last many years—and was well aware that it is a country where everything comes large size, including the costs. At least if converted to currencies of poorer countries like mine.

In addition, I do believe in the adage, ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do’. Nevertheless, after a few months’ stay here in Kissimmee, Florida, I have come to the conclusion that in proportion to what Americans earn, such costs, especially those to do with basic necessities, aren’t really all that bad. In fact, just the opposite, I must say.  No wonder the locals seem to be so well fed.

Well fed? Well-fed indeed, and grossly overweight in most cases. My first visit to a Wal-MartSupercenter I’ll always remember as a grand spectacle of America’s heaviest. Take it from me, an unbiased outsider with a bird’s eye view, this country’s biggest problem is not Iraq or the economy—these will one day be solved, one way or the other—but the populace’s health. Obesity? If what I observed in Kissimmee’s Wal-Mart is any indication, then America is doomed. 

Remember the saying,‘Wealth lost, nothing lost, character lost, something lost, health lost, everything lost’? And, take it from me again, once the intestines get used to large helpings to whet the appetite, it becomes next to impossible to get back to normal. At least in the normal way; from what I hear, surgery to cut out one’s intestines to stop oneself from eating more is the new, and for people like me, a sickeningly abnormal, fad of the times around here.

I pray for you America. There is a rapid evolution in progress here. Truly, people are evolving into whale-like beings. Particularly distressing is the sight of many shockingly fat little children who, for no fault of their own, will in all probability have to go through the rest of their long fat lives as humans limited greatly in their God given faculties due to their overfed bodies. Bodies that will invariably have to be considered as burdens.

Oh America, if what is happening here is symptomatic of what will happen in countries on the fast track in terms of prosperity, then I shudder to think of what we’ll see in China’s multitudinous population in coming years. I hope, they with other prospering nations, do learn from your mistakes. But fact remains that most such countries are quick to follow America’s act in everything they do, and it is becomingly increasingly clear that there is a rapid growth in obesity cases in China’s children. So, are we ready to see humans evolving into blubbery whales all over the world?

(A billion chubby, rosy cheeked Chinese kids, their chinky eyes all but invisible within folds of facial fat, that’s how it will look, is what I say—little laughing Buddhas, a billion of them!)

Whales and humans aside, let’s get back to first impressions once again, beginning at JFK International. While the crew of the Delta Airlines I traveled in seemed to be an all-white affair, blond six-foot-tall pilots and friendly stewardesses with next-door-girl looks, along with a quite intimidating head stewardess who appeared to be rather shrewish, the first Americans I encountered on American soil were a gaggle of security people at various points along the long meandering lanes of the airport. They included many blacks and some orienta-looking sorts.

One security personnel, especially I remember, a huge black woman with a mighty big bottom (I must say I am used to such sights now, they being a rather common affair) was in charge of keeping the lines orderly at the immigration counters. But, considering that the first arrivals of the morning (7:00 a.m.) consisted of two large planeloads from different continents, one can imagine that she seemed to have a difficult time keeping everything moving in an orderly and efficient manner.

The immigration people at the counters, I found also to be quite a diverse lot as far as race was concerned. One way or the other, it seemed to me that all that talk about high security and such was a much blown affair –I mean, the immigration people did not look too enthusiastically security minded the way they were going about their job in a way that reminded me of the phrase, ‘job burn-out’. The unbelievably young looking Hispanic security personnel doing the security checks, however, seemed to be quite thorough in their jobs, what with the passengers having to empty their pockets and even get out of their shoes and jackets before going through the detectors.

In fact, the checks seemed to be done with so much thoroughness in mind that I remember suggesting that they have private rooms where passengers like us could get down to our bare essentials. This would make their job much easier. And, save our times too, considering that one had to walk in and out of the metal detector gate a couple of times, something or the other invariably having being forgotten to be removed from one’s bodily premises.

The plane I boarded for Orlando was a sleek big airplane—I really felt very sorry to see that it was only a quarter full—and with only two passengers in the business section; these too, evidently, non-revenue ones at that. It was an ironic moment for me. Here I was from a country which has just two jet planes in its national airlines—and if I am not mistaken, one is a leased affair, the regular maintenance of which can leave the airlines without any flight schedules for months at a time, not to speak of such episodes becoming hot and publicly debated subjects of habitual corruption in high places—here I was, riding high over a deep blue ocean in a large plane only a quarter full. Actually, this was what led me to my next train of thought— is this symptomatic of what I had begun to know, that America was on its way down in the world economic rankings?

Truth be told, the question had already arisen in my mind, minutes after I landed at JFK, as to how the American economy functioned. The $3 airport trolleys had started the train of thought. Now, after a week here, my question remains the same—how does America manage to remain so apparently rich? At least as far as the evidence of well-planned and well-executed infrastructure and the multitude of glossy cars suggest

Talking about the latter, however, the Japanese appear to have taken over the roads. One very typical American auto dealer—at least the kind I personally had always envisaged as American—tall, white and blond, did assert during a conversation that he believed that Toyotas and Hondas were the best cars made. The Wal-Mart Super Centers, the Super Targets, the Macy’s, and the Dillard’s all seemed to have stockpiles of goods (both fancy and essential) bearing the logo, ‘Made in China’, and lots of garments that said that they were produced in Vietnam.

So, the manufacturing sector, it is obvious, is not doing so well here. However, I read somewhere that a large American company, Raytheon, did have exceptionally large orders from the Pentagon for supplying things like Tomahawk missiles last year. Apple too, I gathered, is showing remarkable growth. But, all said and done, it must be conceded that America is on the downswing in the manufacturing sector.

So, how does the economy run? Trust my fertile brain to come to the logical conclusion—that the continuous process of recycling dollars is what has made this country tick. Banks here appear to have been particularly aggressive in selling their one single commodity—money—to hordes of Americans pampered over the decades with a sense of satisfactory returns for labor and skills, and with seemingly no end in sight for taking care of all needs as well as future desires right now by the never ending promise of more hours, more earnings when and where one wants it.

Now, of course, the situation has deteriorated so rapidly that the television shows are full of programs in which so-called financial experts dole out high-sounding advice on how one should take care of one’s money.

Travelers on public buses are continuously bombarded with advertisements on tiny TV screens of companies that promise to get you out of debt. Regular crashes on Wall Street are now a normal affair, and in fact, most people appear to be taking it in their stride. But I gather that the government, while it shows concern over the subject, is much more concerned that its citizens might fall into the sick habit of saving more than spending. And, this is what will make the American economy really sick, because there is precious little to fall back on to keep the economy going. One can imagine, with the magnificently thought-out systems in place, and with a populace that is at heart, ethical, reasonable, and law abiding (fearing?), the government manages to remain so munificent basically due to the taxes it collects from the purchases its citizens spend so much money on. And, one can imagine what will happen when the consumers begin to purchase little.

Oh yes, it will certainly lead to a far bigger crash than what we have been seeing on Wall Street. No wonder people are looking forward to a miracle happening to take the country out of its inevitable slide—decisions are being made as to who is the new prophet—Barrack Obama or Hillary Clinton? John McCain, or even, Sarah Palin?

Now, back to Kissimmee, and experiences away from this painful subject. My month-long stay here has seen me aching for long walks. This is something that is quite extraordinary. People here, I have noticed, hardly ever walk, except to stroll through the malls. My legs, yearning for some long strides, took me on an outing around the block (a large block, obviously) and really, it was like something out of ‘The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner.’

In other words, the only one walking was me. This naturally caused me a degree of apprehension; the apprehension further reinforced by signs that said, ‘Suspicious persons will be reported’.  Imagine, a harmless walk could easily turn out to be the answer to a vigilante’s dream. Thus, I was glad to read in a local paper that they were having a meeting in nearby St. Cloud to ensure the setting up of new localities where shopping malls would be planned in such a way as to encourage people to walk the five minutes to nearby shops.

But, of course, one doesn’t have to be an expert to know that this alone is not sufficient to stop the evolution of humans into whales. The problem is in the plethora of appetizing foodstuff available night and day, everywhere, and at pretty low prices. Taken alone, this is really a very good thing, people will never go hungry, and so, maybe, the blame does not lie here. The blame actually lies squarely with people. Most of them (the obese) just don’t know how much is enough.

Or maybe, at a deeper level, and I have read about this somewhere, food is only a substitute for emotional shortcomings. Like loneliness, for example. This, of course, is not something that is exclusive to Americans. It is a universal reality. Like my daughter once said to me, “Papa, there are billions of people out there, but where’s the one for me?” Human nature is such that there are so many inbuilt instinctual factors like mistrust (distrust), egocentrism, doubt, shyness, etc. which stop people from reacting and approaching each other as members of the same species should naturally do. And so, you have a lot of islands in a sea of humanity.

The American family setup is one more issue to be factored in as another cause for loneliness, and thus, if true, the substitution of this socially acute need by ingestion of still more food. Obesity is a dangerous disease. Unlike other diseases that can be cured by adequate rest and recuperation along with requisite medicines, obesity, as is obvious, cannot be treated the same way. So, here goes a piece of advice from one as unbiased as me—no expert, true, but a keen observer nevertheless—America, what your people need is, to go back to basics.

Come on, you don’t have to use the drive-through facilities at the bank; why don’t you park your car and go in and stand in line at the counter? Come on Americanos, you don’t have to use the drive-through to eat your McDonald burger. Here, I must concede that, thankfully, the Big Mac is not really as big as is touted—in fact, surprisingly small—and the fries, too, are more reasonably sized than one would have expected. Is this a sign of things to come? Of course, it doesn’t need someone like me to say that obesity is a really big American problem; who can know it better than those who suffer themselves?

Hopefully, this, the ‘going back to basics’, will enable someone like me to have longer and more enjoyable walks when in America—without the fear of someone, in some car, or in some window, reporting me in as a suspicious person.

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