Trip Leg #1: Minneapolis to Portland, OR. 1,837 miles. 37 hours.
I left Minneapolis at about 11 p.m. on Wednesday, September 21st. Because I was leaving at night, and evidently because I had no accurate concept of how fast a train actually travels (note: about 50 mph), I hoped I'd wake the next morning to find that I'd missed most of North Dakota.
I was wrong on two counts, the first being that I'd need to "wake up," since I quickly found myself unable to manage more than 40 winks at a crack in my coach class seat. I read a book before leaving that compared sleeping in coach to "falling asleep in your favorite recliner." That, to be perfectly honest, is outright bullshit. Although you do have quite a bit more legroom than in an airplane, it's not enough to stretch out completely (at least if you're 5'10"). You also have the added complications of the train's sometimes jostled movement, and occasionally a large, fidgety, snoring person pressed right against your elbow.
So let's just frame it in a positive light and say that, due to circumstances beyond my bank account's ability to buy me a sleeper, I unintentionally saw more sunrises than I've seen in years.
But back to North Dakota, which was still there, in all its glory, when the sun finally began to filter through the windows the next morning. In fact, it was almost impossible to tell when we crossed from ND to Montana, because it was like driving through one big, endless farm. While I'm sure the scenery was delightful to some, this South Dakota girl was unimpressed. So I tried to amuse myself by keeping a running log of things I saw and heard in the first stretch of this very long haul.
8:30 a.m. Saw a donkey in a field with cows. That's new.
8:45 a.m. Woman up front declares that "Susie takes four ibuprofen at once. At once!" and "That's not right."
11:00 a.m. Lady behind me announces, "If we'd have flown, we'd have been there hours ago."
11:30 a.m. I finally figure out that my seat has a flip-up footrest. That would have been helpful.
12:30 p.m. See both an oil rig and an actual cowboy on a horse. We are definitely West River.
1:30 p.m. The guy up front has a cell phone ring that's a whinnying horse. He gets approximately 50 calls, during which he always drops the bomb that he's "not at work," he's on his way to Oregon. Has he really not told anyone he's going on vacation?
2:00 p.m. Passed through Frazer, MT, whose mascot is the "Bearcubs." Such a cuddly team. Just kick our asses, why don't you.
2:10 p.m. Just had to set my watch back an hour. Make that 1:10. Shit.
2:30 p.m. Everyone got warned that opening outside doors is a federal offense. Found out from the dude behind me that some drunken passengers decided they needed a cigarette and almost got thrown off the train. Then his wife admitted she used ice in her drink that had fallen on the floor. Huh.
2:45 p.m. Saw a junkyard with a sign reading "Beware of Snakes." Used to be dogs were enough to keep people out. They aren't effing around out here.
3:00 p.m. Just learned that the "event" they've been announcing for sleeping car passengers in the dining car is a wine and cheese tasting. Not too jealous. If their "wine" and "cheese" is anything like their "muffins" and "donut holes," I don't think I'm missing much.
3:30 p.m. Passed through Chinook, MT, whose mascot is the "Sugar Beeters." Not a lot of fight in these Western sports teams.
4:00 p.m. We stop in Havre, MT. I stay in my seat, waiting for Megan from the dining car to come through and take reservations for dinner. When she never materializes, a couple other ladies go to investigate. Megan claims she walked through and nobody wanted dinner (a lie), but it doesn't matter because the dining car is now completely booked. I hate Megan.
5:45 p.m. I go to the lower level "cafe" in the lounge car to get a terrible nuked BBQ chicken sandwich, chips, and a pop for dinner, which I eat while listening to Megan's disembodied voice call people with reservations to the dining car. I'm starting to suspect she doesn't actually exist.
6:00 p.m. I'm reading the paper when I'm joined at my table by Joyce and Steve and semi-drunken Chris. Steve thinks Joyce is going to kill him if they miss their connection in Chicago. I laugh, but then he leans in a little too seriously and tells me to watch the papers for the murder.
To be continued.