About halfway through the summer I decided I would take a solo cross-country Amtrak trip, from Los Angeles to Chicago to Portland to Los Angeles. Though since I didn’t go further east than Chicago, I guess “cross-country” isn’t wholly accurate. Half-cross-country?
I can’t remember exactly how or why I made this decision. I was looking at the cost of flights for my upcoming trip to the Midwest to visit family. The prices weren’t offensively high, but they were still higher than I wanted them to be, which was under $200 direct round trip (lol). Out of curiosity, I looked up train ticket prices. They were not cheaper.
Coach tickets, the lowest priced option, cost about the same as the flight I was eyeing, and a roomette, the least expensive sleeper car would be about five times the cost. Oh, and it would take ten times as long. When I floated the idea to my partner, he replied, “oh, then absolutely not”. He could not understand why I would opt for a mode of transportation that was more expensive and less efficient.
But alas, I had already watched a YouTube video documenting the routes I wanted to take, and thus visualized myself on the train! I couldn’t turn back now. I justified the decision both financially and artistically.
Financial Justification
I will apply for the Amtrak Guest Rewards MasterCard (not sponsored)! Once I am approved, I will purchase the eastbound sleeper car with my new credit card, which will earn me tens of thousands of rewards points per the new customer card agreement, and I will subsequently redeem those tens of thousands of rewards points to fund my westbound sleeper trip home.
Furthermore, the roomette sleeper car price includes three meals a day, and my internet research tells me the food will be good! If I ride coach, I’ll be left eating junk food for three days and be unable to take a shower or sleep horizontally. So really, the ticket will cover the cost of transportation, room & board and food for three days.
An all-inclusive train vacation and, don’t forget, tens of thousands of rewards points? The trip will practically pay for itself!
It did not pay for itself, obviously. That math does not net zero.
And it turned out the tens of thousands of rewards points were only enough to fund half of my return trip, the terribly-imperialistically-named Empire Builder route to Portland. I would still need to pay for the rest of the trip, the much-more-neutrally-named Coast Starlight route from Portland to Los Angeles. It was about the same price as the eastbound trip, the also-should-be-renamed Southwest Chief, from Los Angeles to Chicago.
To be clear, I opted for an extraneous trip. Had I chosen the more direct return, another ride on the Southwest Chief (rename it, please!) from Chicago to Los Angeles, I probably could have covered the return trip entirely with my tens of thousands of rewards points.
But I wanted to see as much of the countryside as I could! And, I knew it would be good for me as an artist, which leads me to the
Artistic Justification
This will be my very own solo artist retreat.
I will have nearly three full days on both ends of a long family trip. Days that are just for myself, no responsibilities whatsoever! Meals are guaranteed and scheduled with a sleeper car, so I won’t even have to wonder about when I should eat or what I should eat or even worry about snacks. I’m almost always worried about snacks in my day to day life, I love snacks!
And I’ll have almost zero screen time, since the train won’t have WiFi and frequently be travelling out of range. My phone will be on airplane mode (“isn’t it ironic?”) the whole time, with the exception of fresh air stops when I will call my partner to let him know I am alive and the train is on track, literally and figuratively. My time will be absolutely my own for a combined six days, something I don’t know I’ve ever experienced before.
When I tried to remember a time I felt that sort of freedom, the closest I could come up with was an 18-hour car ride to a Catholic Heart Work Camp in Hart, West Virginia (some day I will write about my past life as a devoted Catholic teen, but not today). I was about to turn fifteen years old, sitting next to my crush in the way back seat of a 13-passenger van and with nothing but time and music and the thrill of falling asleep curled up next to my crush.
I wouldn’t have a crush to cuddle this time, but I did have time to develop a crush on myself. Is that too cheesy? Speaking of cheese, did I mention that fresh mini brie was available with every dinner?
I’m new to calling myself an artist, so this train retreat felt like a necessary investment in my new understanding of myself. I was paying for the luxury of uninterrupted time. I wanted to experience that bliss that can only be felt when one is being transported from one location to another with nothing but time and space in between.
And, practically speaking, the older I get, the more anxious I’ve become when it comes to flying and all the theatrics that surround the airport. I have nightmares about it now. Nightmares about mundane security lines and tightly packed airborne vessels and immediate dreadful feelings when I realize I’ve forgotten something. In waking life, an emotional meltdown within 48 hours of a flight is basically a guarantee. I have come to dislike flying so much, I recently researched if I could visit Europe by sea like Greta Thunberg (sadly, it’s not a feasible option for me at this time).
Though I was going to take my Train Girlie Journey regardless of my partner’s understanding of it (when he dropped me off at the train station, I asked if he could believe I was actually taking this train ride to which he replied matter-of-factly, “Yes. You were determined to do it. I’m not surprised at all.” I love him.), when I provided that last practical reason, the reason that would actually benefit my mental and emotional health, he was on board.
In the weeks that led up to my inaugural cross-country train ride, I couldn’t help but romanticize the person I envisioned becoming, the artist I envisioned being. I brought multiple scripts that needed rewrites and a half dozen script ideas. I brought a portable battery-powered midi keyboard. I brought yarn and a crochet hook. I brought dozens of essay ideas, dozens of downloaded music albums, and a dozen (!!) books. I brought an empty notebook.
The possibilities were endless, and I couldn’t wait to begin my artistic journey. I took to my journal a few days before the trip began to speculate on my trip:
I think I will feel a strange sense of sadness and excitement once [my partner] drops me off at the station. Like “what was I thinking” and “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” at the same time.
I’ll get settled in my roomette, get some dinner and watch the scenery until it’s dark. Then I’ll return to my roomette and read or write about how the afternoon was and maybe continue to do that or crochet until I go to sleep.
I imagine I’ll wake up early on Tuesday morning. That will be my only full day on the train, and I’ll start with breakfast in my roomette, writing as I eat and enjoying some alone time watching the scenery. Then I’ll take my book to the observation car and observe for as long as I want.
I think I have a feeling like I should be out of the roomette as much as possible, but I’m really looking forward to the feeling of having my own small space.
Overall, I loved the train. I know that I primed myself to love it. I know that I let myself ignore things that, under different circumstances, where there were no expectations, I would have at least paused and reconsidered my choices.
I know this to be true, because one thing I let slide early involved discovering my sock was damp with what smelled a lot like urine.
But that’s for next week.
Thanks for reading, I love you.