August 15, 2012

• Time Travel

  Today I rode an Amtrak train for 2.5 hours, reading a book set in the 1930s the entire way. When I stepped off the train at my home station, I’ll admit that I felt a bit shocked to see it was actually 2012. It seems that hearing the sound of the train in the background while getting lost in a novel about Manhattan in 1938 was a disorienting experience. In a good way.

  I was devouring the last chapters of “Rules of Civility” by Amor Towles, a novel which begins with a gallery viewing of photos taken with a hidden camera on the NYC subway system in the 1930s. The story is fictional, but the photography exhibit was real – Walker Evans published the shots he took in his book, “Many Are Called,” which I have now requested from the public library. Maybe a relative of mine was photographed on one of those trains. My ancestors lived in New York at that time, so it’s possible. Unlikely, especially that I would recognize them – but possible, nonetheless.

  The reason for my travel was a reunion of sorts, with my two closest friends from high school. It was a good time, except for the rats. One was squished in the road in DuPont Circle and two were alive and well on the banks of the Potomac River. I had forgotten all about them until a friend decided to write a blog about hamsters and tangentially mentioned rats. (You know who you are – thanks for nothing.)

  Rail travel, especially for a trip of that length, is quite delightful. It was 100% rat free, there were no restrictions on when I could use electronics or the restroom or access my luggage. There were outlets to recharge my phone, right at my seat. There was no security or boarding fanfare. You get on, you sit down, you get off. Simple.

  During my return trip today, it occurred to me that I probably should have saved some of my cash to pay for parking my car in the station lot. I had only $6 remaining in my wallet, and I knew that wouldn’t cover the cost. Thinking ahead, I stopped at the ticket booth to ask if the parking attendant would be able to take my credit card. No, but you can use the ATM in the lobby was the response I received.

  Except that the ATM was broken. Awesome. Welcome back to 2012 with a slap in the face, sistah!

  Luckily (for me) there was another woman in the exact same predicament as me. We bonded in our mutual need for cash after a journey home to our very humid city. We set off on foot for the nearest grocery store, which the nearly comatose Amtrak ticket clerk claimed had an ATM. We cut through the back of some fairly shady buildings and stepped through some under manicured landscapes, dragging our suitcases all the way. (We could have put them in our cars first, but we were apparently too sweaty to think clearly. Plus, it was kind of fun to see everyone look at us FREAKS WITH SUITCASES IN THE SUBURBAN GROCERY STORE!!!) 

  We got our cash and knew enough to wait for one another to trek back through the sketchy back lots on our way back to the train station. We had a little chat in which she told me what she does for a living and I felt old and out of touch because she said something about a technology platform that I had never once heard of. But this was my own issue – she was lovely and friendly and a perfect suitcase toting companion for a sweaty walk to and from a grocery store cash machine.

  I returned home to the little ones, who seemed to be getting along well and had not run their grandmother too ragged in my absence. And they even saved me some leftover kid’s meal pizza for dinner. Score!

  I enjoyed my trip, and I enjoyed my book. I will leave you with this passage from Amor Towles’ book, which I read on the train today and sums up exactly how I feel whenever I am fortunate enough to pause my daily life and reconnect with my oldest friends:

  “We walked shoulder to shoulder…at an easy pace, conversing like friends from youth for whom every exchange is an extension of the last, regardless of the passage of time.”

   

  • 12:54 am
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