Charlotte Latvala: Traveling by train always an adventure
“Well, here we go!” I said to my daughter as we flung open the doors to the train station. “Ready for our adventure.”
Broadway was open and we were headed to the Big Apple by train. New York City! Broadway lights! A mother-daughter duo! Who knew what high adventure would unfold?
It had all the makings of a 1940s musical. I half expected to see Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire queuing up behind us. Maybe Ann Miller, tapping her heart out.
Well.
I have been on a modern train before, but the human mind is a funny thing. It believes what it wants to believe, and I desperately wanted to believe that we were in for a swanky time.
During the COVID months, I did not travel at all, and had allowed my consciousness to stew in a broth of romantic, old-timey notions of train travel. (I had recently read both “Murder on the Orient Express” and “Strangers on a Train.”) I allowed myself to develop a warped notion of the kind of excitement and luxury we were in for.
Well.
The train station, while stately on the outside, proved to be a dingy waiting room filled with plastic seats and tired-looking people. A quick glance did not reveal a countess or cad among them. When we boarded, not a single soul leaned out the train window to catch the last glimpse of a long-lost love. No one clutched a mysterious valise and glanced nervously around.
Nevertheless, my daughter and I stowed our luggage overhead and settled in. I opened “Dr. Zhivago,” dreamed about snow-covered Siberia, and began to wish for a fur muff (it was surprisingly cold on the train).
Then came the announcement that the café car would be opening soon, and my heart leapt. The dining car! White tablecloths, fine china, silver-domed serving plates! Waiters in short black jackets bending over us with grace and charm!
Instead, the café car held a counter with overpriced bags of Doritos and cans of Sprite. I had a hard time deciding between a turkey sandwich and a vegetarian tamale, but in the end, it didn’t matter because they were out of both. I ended up with a slab of microwaved cheese pizza.
At least there were tables where we could sit and eat our humble fare. We watched the beautiful Pennsylvania countryside roll by, and talked with excitement about the upcoming days. We got coffee and cookies and chatted some more.
Back in our seats, we met not one enigmatic stranger. We did not witness any crimes. (Unless you count the man behind us talking loudly on a conference call and using the word “leverage” as a verb 50 times.)
Passengers came and went, the train rolled on, and we arrived at Penn Station on time.
New York was exciting. The shows were fantastic. Would I take the train next time?
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Is there anything more romantic in the world?
Charlotte is a columnist for The Times. You can reach her at charlottelatvala@gmail.com.
This article originally appeared on Beaver County Times: Latvala: Traveling by train always an adventure
