Traveling Outside of Time
That’s because, in yet another of a string of cost-cutting moves meant to inch Amtrak toward the impossible goal of self-sufficiency, the corporation reorganized itself. Its new geographic divisions took away “ownership” of any single train from any single group of people. The Coast Starlight, for example, is now under the supervision of both the Southwest Division (L.A. to San Luis Obispo) and the Pacific Division (san Luis Obispo north). It’s not “Brian’s train” anymore. It’s not anybody’s train.
It is mid-November on one of those bright, balmy days that makes everyone remember why they live in L.A., and I am sitting in the Pacific Parlour Car of the northbound Coast Starlight sipping a cup of herbal tea as we leave Union Station.
I’ve stowed my luggage in compartment C, a deluxe sleeper two cars forward,
a private seven-foot by six-and-a half-foot room with a five-foot-long picture window. Along one side of the compartment is a couch that opens into a twin bed. (There’s a pulldown berth above to handle a second traveler.) The couch faces a comfortable armchair. Between them is a small table with a bouquet of fresh flowers. I have a small closet, a vanity with a sink and lighted mirror and an enclosed cubicle for the commode which doubles as a shower stall. An airline would pack nine coach passengers in the space that is mine alone for the next day and a half.