Between the years 2013 and 2018 I took greyhound buses and amtrak trains an immense amount of times. In those five years I must have spent at least an entire month or two of my life inside a train or a bus. If I had to guess, around 1000 hours. For some reason, train stations and bus stops (particularly greyhound stations) tend to attract very interesting people. At times amusing, at times pleasant, and at times unsavory, always interesting. There is something about these places being transient that allows people to express an incredible sense emotion. Human emotion is amplified by a factor of 100 here. Places of transition and places of impermanence. Places to leave those emotions behind. Places where you can be who you want because it’s only temporary. Lately I have been traveling in airplanes more often. And while it is true that airports contain a similar ambience, the raw energy felt is nowhere near compared to the bus and train stations that I’m talking about. If I were to attribute this to something, it is because there is a sense of financial security in flying. There is just something so much more leisurely about airports and airplanes. If you’re going from San Diego to San Francisco you have the option of taking a $200 2 hour flight or a $40 12 hour greyhound trip. Of course if you can afford it you’d take the plane. That’s what I’m trying to get at. University students going back home for the holidays, office workers on their daily commute because they have to live 2 hours away from their workplace, the infamous greyhound convicts being sent home or on occasion to a different prison, European backpackers who thought America was much smaller and were surprised to find that it takes more than 30 minutes to get from San Francisco to LA, train romantics who assure you it’s better to take your time and take in the view, teenagers using a fake id to run away from home, an estranged father searching for his son to try and reconnect with him, a newlywed couple who are wondering from which side of the train you can see the ocean, a former lawyer who was sued for malpractice, an impossibly homesick New Orleans native who has been in the west coast for 20 years and whose voice is reminiscent of Frank Sinatra’s, a boy who has been called back to his hometown by his mother because his father has just passed away… These are the kinds of people you encounter in those buses and trains. Of course I’m one of those cases too. When I take the train I like to make up fake names and fake occupations if someone starts a conversation with me. I wonder how many stories about me exist out there. A compulsive liar, just for laughs.
Well, given that it is the 2nd of February, I’d like to write about the most interesting and eventful train ride I’ve ever had. February 2nd, 2014; the beginning of strange journey.
At the beginning of 2014, due to various circumstances, I didn’t have enough money to pay for university. Looking back at it I’m sure I could have talked to the university’s financial department and we could have found a way to stay. But I was young and didn’t know yet how the world works. So just like that, after a single semester, my time in university was over. Because I was afraid, I told my parents I was still in university. Because I was ashamed, I told my close friends and roommates that I would be leaving for Asheville (east coast). Leaving my pride intact was the most important thing. To be completely honest, I had no idea what I was going to do. So I spent the last two weeks of that January hiding in my old dorm room, drifting without a plan a, let alone a plan b. Somehow, in some way, for some reason which I now don’t remember, I decided to take a train to Seattle. I think I actually meant to fly to Asheville back then. So it was decided (I think to myself as if this happened because of some exterior force) that on the 1st of February of 2014, I would take a 24 hour train trip from Merced to Seattle, presumably (I don’t remember what was going through my head back then) with the intent to then fly from Seattle’s airport into North Carolina.
And so we set out, 100 pounds of boy and 50 pounds of suitcase, wearing boots that were half a size too big and a jacket that was much too large. All combined made one normal sized person.
This marks the beginning of the second part. Written on a different day. Change to first person perspective. I wrote it trying to imitate what was probably actually going on in my brain. This is how I form thoughts in my head. All choppy and intermittent. I think this is how it happened. Can’t be sure anymore, many details get mixed up.
It’s 6pm. I leave without telling my former roommates. French exits are better. I’ve never been good with farewells. On my way to the bus stop I run into a girl who is a couple of years above me. I know her because we were in the same club in university. She sees my suitcase and asks if I’m going somewhere. I know what she means to ask if I’m moving to another city but I just say that I’m going to the amtrak station. I don’t want to have to explain my situation. Unexpectedly she doesn’t pry any further into the matter. She asks if I need a ride to the train station? Unexpected kindness, a gracious offer, a gentle person. “No, thanks.” I set out alone and I will go through it alone. I don’t need help. I don’t need help. I don’t need help. It’s every man for himself. Exile can only bring atonement if it’s done in solitude. Proud idiot. Get on the bus and run away already. It’s the only thing you do well. Abscond.
By the time I reach the train station it’s already dark. It’s cold outside and there’s a strong wind blowing but the sky is clear. Let the wind carry me where it may. Not too many people waiting for the train. The train arrives sounding it’s loud horn. I get on without any incident. The inside of the train is much more quiet. I find a lone seat and take it. No phone, smartphone, ipod, or music player for a 24 hour train ride (Back then I was staunchly anti-phone. I disliked the idea of being easily reached and contacted). All I have with me for entertainment is a thick book with several of Nabokov’s works. Over 1000 pages of the Russian writer’s flowery prose. I’ll probably sleep most of the way there anyway. Tears can’t flow if you’re asleep. I think. I can’t sleep right now because I have to transfer to a different train in a couple of hours. It’d be a disaster if I fell asleep and missed my stop. It’s a place called Martinez. Never heard of it before. I think of a formerly close friend who has the same last name. I don’t talk to him anymore. Step off the train with that terribly heavy suitcase. It’s dark and somber outside. There’s some suspicious looking people hanging around. Go inside without getting into trouble. Look around at all the tired faces. It’s barely 8pm but it feels like it could be past midnight. There’s a bit of a commotion going on on the other end of the station. A police officer, maybe a security guard is arguing with an old looking woman. If I had to guess, about 70 years old. He’s telling her that she’s not allowed inside without a train ticket. She mostly seems to be ignoring everything he says and just keeps repeating “please it’s so cold I just arrived from Chicago and I have nowhere to go”. I wish I could help her somehow but I can barely even help myself. He forces her out and tells her not to come back or he will call the police. So he wasn’t a police officer after all. The woman is crying while wheeling out a big grocery cart full of junk. Why do I always get sad when I see scene like this. For a few minutes I distracted myself from my own sorry situation for another. She’s definitely worse off than me though. The train will arrive in the next 5 minutes. A few people are exiting the station to wait for the train outside. I decide to go out too. About meters away there seems to be some kind of fight going on. Two men are yelling at each other and it seems like either one of them might throw a punch at any second. “I think I’ll just wait here”, a girl next to me says and gives stiff laugh. “Yeah same.” There is strength in numbers, I guess. Not that anything was going to happen. But just in case. Just in case. I should have considered a lot more “just in case”s and I wouldn’t have been put in this position… The sound of the train horn again. This train looks different from the one I usually take. Apparently this one bears the name “coast starlight” instead of the “pacific surfliner” that I’ve grown accustomed to. The main difference, from what I understand, is the inclusion of sleeper cars in this one. I place my suitcase on the first floor and go upstairs to the second. The worker who takes my ticket says that it’ll be a full train tonight so everybody has to sit in the seat assigned by your ticket. I hadn’t even noticed there were seat numbers. I hope I’m not seated next to anyone, I need time to think alone. Mostly I don’t want anyone to see me cry. Great there’s already someone in the seat next to mine. At least I have the window seat. That’s good. I won’t give up my window seat for anything. I sit down as the train departs the station. I look outside the window but it’s so dark outside it’s hard to make anything out. All of a sudden there’s something. The ocean. It’s gleaming with the reflection of whatever light source there is outside right now. So Martinez was next to the ocean? I have no idea where we are, but I’m grateful that my final departure gets to be by the ocean. The world wasn’t kind but at least it was beautiful. It’s cold. The guy next to me seems annoyed by the fact that he has to sit next to someone. Whatever. I’m so tired. My eyes are starting to get teary. I don’t want to think about what’s going to happen once I reach Seattle. I don’t want to think about anything hard. If I could just stay on this train forever that would be nice. Wouldn’t it. Wouldn’t you want that. Go to sleep. When the mind is tired you don’t dream. It’s all blank until you wake up. It could be 10 minutes or 10 hours and it still would seem like an eternity has passed. I wish ten thousand years would go by so that I wouldn’t have to face anyone again.
Wake up. It’s cold. It’s so cold. I’m freezing. That’s the first thing I noticed. I cover myself with my jacket as if it was a blanket. It was big enough that it pretty much worked like one too. How long has it been? Where are we? The train is not moving. The conductor is saying something on the train but I can’t quite make out what he said. I look outside the window. It’s light outside. Morning probably. My eyes are met with a field of white. White as far as the eye can see. I’ve never seen so much snow in my life. I’ve hardly ever seen snow but this was almost an excessive amount of snow, at least that’s what I think. The “station” we have momentarily stopped at isn’t so much a station as it is just a small, quaint building that can fit maybe 10 people inside, at most. Is it made out of logs? It’s cute. The train starts moving again. I can’t stop looking outside the window. I usually stare out the window when I’m on a train or a car, but I was really looking this time. I couldn’t get enough of this field of snow. The town itself was like something out of a picture book. All small and old fashioned. I wonder what it’s like to live there. I wonder what it’s like to grow up there. Suddenly dark. We’re going through a tunnel. Goodbye, little town. I was so taken by the seat outside that I hadn’t noticed the guy next to me wasn’t there anymore. In his place was a deep blue hardcover book. Can’t see a title. I guess he must be getting food somewhere else on the train. I’m hungry too. I haven’t had food since 2pm of the previous day. It must be around 8 or 9am right now. Ah but train food is so expensive, and we don’t have a lot of that thing called money. Better not to eat just yet. Sleep the hunger away. There’s no way I can sleep right now it’s so cold and I just woke up. Well then distract yourself by staring out the window. There’s so many pine trees. Back in the city where I grew up, there was one pine tree. One single pine tree. When I was in elementary school I would pass by it every day when my mom drove me to school in the morning. And every single time I felt the need to point it out. My old pine tree back home did not compare to this vast forest of evergreens. I he could see me right now, would he be jealous? (Unfortunately that pine tree does not exist anymore. The passage of time is unforgiving.) Judging by all these trees and all the snow from before, I’m assuming we’re somewhere in Oregon? Well this is what I’ve heard Oregon is like… So it must be, right? That’s what I learned in college. Superficial details about all the places I’ve never been to. How long it takes for an 50x50cm ice cube to melt at slightly under room temperature (a few days!). How many boxes can fit in an average college dorm room (about eighty eight). Random facts about the order of insects lepidoptera (did you know luna moths don’t have mouths?). Some phrases in Korean to flirt with the girl across the hall (안녕하세요!). Learned how to walk with raccoons (they’d rather have old fruit than an overcooked sausage). How to unlock the doors of lecture buildings in the middle of the night (this one’s a trade secret). Remember reading Nietzsche during calculus lecture? I bet you thought you were cool. Idiot. If you’re so smart why aren’t you in class right now. If you’re so smart why haven’t you figured out a way to fix this? Your father told you he was proud of you for the first time in your life.
The train stopped. This time in the middle of a proper city. I looked outside the window and see… a street? There’s a queue of cars forming. The train is blocking the way. Is this the station? Now, whose brilliant idea was this? I overhear someone saying we’re in Salem, like the black cat. Scratch this place from our list of potential living areas. No city with such an inconvenient train station could be good. The people outside the train seem aggravated about something. Who wouldn’t, when a train is blocking your way for what’s been about 10 minutes now, right? No, it’s something else. It’s been about 20 minutes now. There’s a commotion outside. An ambulance and a police car have arrived in the area, made apparent by their flashing lights. Suddenly the train starts to move again. From the speakers, into every car, the conductor says “ladies and gentlemen, if you ever find yourselves trying to end it all, please do not do it on the train tracks. People have places to go.” Casually. In an annoyed tone. Some people laugh. A few others agree. A couple on the seats across from me start discussing depression and suicide. They seem to concur on the benefits of euthanasia. Praised be Oregon. With swollen eyes and damp cheeks, staring out the train window, I silently promise myself to never set foot in Salem. The scenery is breathtaking. I hope you find your peace.
Seeing an old man walk through the train cars reminds me that I’m hungry. Alright, alright, I give in, I’ll go get something to eat.
Stranger Journey 