More Questions and Answers.
First, a digression:
My apologies for the longer-than-usual gap between the previous post and this one. My sister’s husband passed away and she has asked me to deliver the eulogy when his ashes are buried. Please allow me to offer a few words of advice to anyone who may one day be asked to perform that service:
Avoid it if you possibly can!
I have labored over the 1750 words I have written and I have no idea how they will be received by my sister, or by his grown kids (he was previously married), or by anyone else who will show up for the burial of his ashes.
I will be traveling and on the mainland—in Connecticut, actually—until the first week of June, but will try to continue posting along the way.
And now, with much relief, I will continue with my answers to a few of the questions I’ve received in the past week or so.
Q: What should I do it if looks like I’m going to miss a connection?
A. I will resist the temptation to scold you for booking an itinerary with a connection in the first place. Assuming you are going to miss your connecting train . . . and assuming it’s a valid connection according to the ticket you bought . . . and assuming you are physically able, you need to be the first off your incoming train and you should run—and I do indeed mean that you need to literally run—to the exit gate. That’s where the one or two Amtrak employees who can help you will be seated.
The object, of course, is to be as close to first in line as possible, because as many as a hundred other people on your train will be in the same boat and it’s a lot better to be—let’s say—the forth or fifth person they deal with than it is to be the fortieth person in line.
But, whatever you do, be polite and be grateful. Don’t stand there and complain and bad-mouth Amtrak in front of an Amtrak employe who is trying to help you. At this moment, it doesn’t matter why your train was late and the people who are trying to help you weren’t responsible, anyway.
More to come in a few days.