Pittsburgh to Chicago, Capitol Limited, Train No. 29
Pittsburgh Amtrak station entrance
When visiting a city, I look for hotels near Amtrak stations that offer transportation perks such as free shuttle service to and from the rail station. My stay at The Wyndham Pittsburgh University Center on Lytton Avenue included such an amenity. While I was impressed with the city of Pittsburgh, the Amtrak station is rather grungy. It feels dirty. There are no windows in its subterranean location beneath the historic Penn Central station. It’s now known as The Pennsylvanian which houses condos and ground floor commercial space.
Before I board the midnight train to Chicago people here move slowly, unsteadily in the dank surroundings. The Amtrak locomotive sounds a long blast, which means get on board now. I walk up the stairwell in the last car of the train. Most of the passengers are sleeping. I discover a large middle-aged woman sitting in my seat, awake.
Bridge view from train
“I have seat number 50,” I say in a hushed tone. From my pocket, I show her the blue piece of paper where the conductor wrote my seat number.
“I have number 52 and someone is sitting in my seat so I’m staying in this seat,” she says with confidence. I remain unrattled and volley for the seat. Turning to the elderly woman sitting in seat 52 I ask, “Do you have the blue piece of paper the conductor gave you?”
“Yes, I do. Seat 52.” But she doesn’t show me the piece of paper. I move down the car to see if there are any vacant seats. A conductor approaches.
“Someone is in my seat,” I tell him, feeling like a six-year old on a school bus. He asks the woman sitting in my seat for her ticket. He begins trying to reshuffle passengers but they are staying put.
“People have tickets but they sit wherever they want,” he says. I am confused. Do I have a reserved seat in Coach or not? My ticket says so. Lowering his chin into his collar the conductor appears powerless. Apparently, on this train there is nothing that disallows passengers from sitting anywhere they want.
“Try to find another seat,” the conductor says. It is now past midnight and I am not going to argue. I find a seat next to a sleeping blond hair college-aged woman. I flip the foot flap up and quickly fall asleep.
Dawn on a train is a wonderful event. Slivers of light spread across the horizon and slowly fill the half dark sky. Nearing Chicago, the train passes the Sweet Serenity Church and the Wonderful Life apartment building. It arrives on time at 8:45am at Chicago’s Union Station.
It takes nine hours and 25 minutes to complete its 406-mile route. Driving a car at 65 mph it would take 7 hours, 16 minutes. A passenger airplane flying at 650 mph from Chicago to Pittsburgh would take I hour, 8 minutes. In Europe, a high-speed train traveling at 300 km/h takes approximately 3 hours, 10 minutes. Still, flight schedules would have required me to pay for three nights at hotels. By train I pay for only one night. Leaving my car behind I save on parking fees and avoid driving for seven hours. With bathroom breaks and meals it would approximate the same amount of time as the train.
My train ride with tired and obstinate passengers shows me that a train seat can be a place where people plant their flag, reservations or not.
