Late Trains: Only the Passengers Seem to Care.

This on-time problem of Amtrak’s cannot go on. No rational, civilized society should allow it. 

The thing is — and I plead guilty to this — it’s really not possible to fully appreciate how infuriating these unconscionable delays are until you have experienced one yourself … in person, not in the abstract. I just did.
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At 2:30 this morning, the Lake Shore Limited had just departed Erie, Pennsylvania, when some guy tried to kill himself by driving his pickup out onto the tracks right in front of our locomotive. Bam! 

Three hours later, barely alive, he has been extracted from what was left of his truck and carted off to a hospital. The cops have finished whatever it is they do, and we are underway again, but almost four hours behind schedule. We have 523 miles behind us, 436 miles to go and if we can stay close to our scheduled running time from here to Chicago, I may still be able to make my connection to the Zephyr.
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That was a pipe dream. What was I thinking? We have stopped at least a half dozen times since leaving Erie. The routine is the same every time and it really begins to wear on you:  Your train has stopped. You wait. Nothing happens. It’s quiet in the Viewliner, just the hum of the air conditioning and once in a while you catch a fragment of conversation between other passengers. 

After perhaps 20 minutes, there’s a rumbling, then the ear-shattering blast of a train whistle, and a Norfolk Southern freight train passes next to you on the main line. Slowly. It takes several minutes. And then it’s gone. But you don’t move. You’re still sitting there … not moving. And you realize, now you’re waiting for another freight train.
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I had breakfast this morning with an older gentleman, the editor of a poetry magazine who is to be the featured speaker at a four-day conference in Seattle. He cannot fly because of a medical condition, but he had already missed his connection to the Empire Builder. So he’s going to spend the next two nights sitting up in a coach seat on tomorrow’s train because, of course, the sleepers have long since been sold out.
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The Lake Shore has resumed it’s journey, but we have spent the past hour and ten minutes sitting in the middle of an Ohio cornfield because someone somewhere has made the decision that people are less important than crude oil and toaster ovens. I have missed my connection to the Zephyr. It left an hour ago on its way to Salt Lake City and beyond. We are still no where near Chicago and Jay, our veteran car attendant, says “the worst stretch is up ahead of us”. Swell.
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I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do. Amtrak Reservations says what I already assumed to be true … that Tuesday’s Zephyr is sold out. I’ll probably spend the night in a hotel in Chicago and fly direct to Salt Lake City on Tuesday. 
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Here’s my view of all this: It’s bullshit. The government hasn’t done anything. Every single day, thousands of taxpaying American citizens are being seriously inconvenienced and put to additional personal expense because containers full of Hello Kitty dolls from Japan have priority over people. 

The freight railroads certainly don’t give a damn about Amtrak or the 300 or so human beings on this train who will be dumped out onto the streets of Chicago sometime tonight. In fact, they expect us to believe that with all their computers and their systems and their technology, they’re unable to expedite passage of one damn train a day between Albany and Chicago. Seriously, guys? 
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At the moment, we’re still on the outskirts of the city and the Lake Shore conductors are gabbing in the empty dining car. Since we hit that pickup back in Erie some seventeen hours ago, only one announcement has been made over the public address system. It was, and I quote, “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re stopped here waiting on freight traffic and will be underway again shortly.”  Not enough. Not nearly enough. And, by the way, we have stopped again. Our operating crew “went dead” and we are waiting for replacements to take us the last six miles into Union Station.
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Most of the passengers are a little dazed, have no clue as to why it’s happening, but seem to be taking it all in stride. Most are on cell phones arranging for pick-up, canceling pick-ups, calling airlines … adjusting. There are a few of us, however — veterans of Amtrak travel, including a couple of NARP members — with a somewhat different view to today’s experience: we’re pissed.
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Here’s an idea! What if the government sends a totally unofficial message to the freight railroads: Start running Amtrak on time. If you don’t, FRA inspectors are going to be all over you like flies on a cow pie. They’ll inspect everything from your locomotives to your coffee pots and they’ll find something wrong with every damn one of them! Sounds like a plan to me.
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The Lake Shore Limited has arrived in Chicago Union Station approximately 10 hours and 15 minutes late. It may be 11 hours because of the time change. Frankly, I’m too tired and too disgusted to care.
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(The preceding was written throughout the day on Monday, and posted Tuesday morning from Chicago.)