Riding the Rails – A Comparison

My Riding the Rails mini-series is apparently missing the mark.  Either that, or riding better-run rails for their entire lives has my non-American readers so positively disposed toward train travel, they keep missing my salient points.

I said the Silver Star was the best of the lot – my point being, we rode lots of trains, and none of the others measured up.  I said riding the Star north to Washington was the only time I reconnected with the well-organized/competent traveller I’d been in my youth – my point being, my baseline for this trip was feeling disgruntled and ill-prepared for the contingencies of train travel.  I said some few stations are glorious – my point being, the majority of stations are mere depots, or little better than.  I said American trains can’t get you where you want to go, Amtrak relies on buses to deliver passengers to their destinations, and neither the trains nor the buses run on time.  Nothing ambiguous about that, right?

Amtrak Depot, South Bend, Indiana

I thought we’d been well schooled by our day-trips to Princeton and Albany and the overnights on the Silver Star.  I thought we knew it all.  Imagining we had matriculated from novice train-takers to seasoned train-travellers, I was confident of our ability to ace the next leg of our journey.  Turned out, we had only graduated from train-kindergarten.  Our elementary education was about to begin.

The leg in question was a two-parter:  DC to Chicago on the Capitol Limited, Chicago to Kansas City, MO on the Southwest Chief.

 

According to the timetables, the Limited leaves Washington’s Union Station each day at 4:05pm and arrives in Chicago’s Union Station at 8:45am next morning.  The Chief starts its daily run to Los Angeles at 3:00pm and pulls into KCMO just after 10:00pm.

We were set with a roomette on the Limited, two coach seats on the Chief, and – with luck – six hours to kill in Chicago.  The Windy City.  My home town.

If the Limited was on schedule, we would have time to visit the Museum of Science and Industry, the Adler Planetarium, the Art Institute, or my childhood favorite, the Field Museum of Natural History.  Even if the train was running late, we would surely be able to swing a nostalgic lunch at The Berghoff or Pizzeria Uno before making our connection.  For me, the layover in Chi-Town was one of the real perks of our itinerary.

Blithely optimistic, I fancied we had prepped perfectly for the roomette.  Roy had his backpack (book, laptop).  I was carrying my large-ish shoulder bag (travel folder, iPad, phone, wallet, passport IDs, earbuds).  Everything we needed to get us from DC to KC (change of clothes, flip-flops, Roy’s CPAP, toiletries, makeup) was in my suitcase or small cosmetic case.  All non-essentials (dirty clothes, attire for the days ahead, alternate footwear, swimsuits, umbrella, small purse) were packed away in Roy’s suitcase.  We knew from experience the cases would fit neatly in the roomette’s upper storage compartment, and Roy’s could stay there until we reached Chicago.

In New York, sleeper-car passengers are entitled to priority boarding.  In DC, they are entitled to a whole, massive, private waiting room.  The Amtrak Club Acela Lounge.  Very posh.

via theforwardcabin.com

The lounge demographic was skewed to the mature; the only young folks present had even younger folks in tow.  As waiting rooms go, the Acela is quite a step up from the ubiquitous hard-bench, coach-class, echo-y hall variety.  Outlets, WiFi, comfy chairs, couches, TV, random Amtrak employees stopping by to see if you are wanting for anything . . .

I chose a spot, pulled our bags close, and plugged in my pad.  Roy took off to purchase more underpants.  (Stations like Union-DC are veritable malls.)  While he was gone, the entire dining-car crew of the Limited came in to introduce themselves and plug the dinner menu.  Amtrak definitely goes the extra mile to make sleeper-car customers feel special.  Yeah, but I’m a peasant at heart.  All that gracious, gratuitous service just made me uncomfortable.

I got even more uncomfortable when the conscientious attendants announced it was time to board.  Roy wasn’t back yet.  I frantically texted him, told him to hurry.  The staff was actively herding everyone to and through the secret lounge-to-track doors, the place was emptying fast, and I’m standing there with two big suitcases and three small ones, anxiously looking for Roy and refusing the attendants’ insistent offers to secure me a motorized vehicle and a Red Cap’s assistance.

Finally my man shows up – sans new undies.  The Union Station retailers were so high-end (Jos. A. Bank, Clothiers), a pair of briefs would have cost him as much as a decent dinner.   No worries.  We’d pick up better-priced undergarments on State Street when we hit Chicago.  Right now, we had a train to catch.

We followed the trail of fellow sleeper-car travellers, bringing up the rear at first, then passing the folks on the motorized transports I had declined.  The DC-Chicago run is a biggie, so it was a loooong train.  We found our car, found our room number . . . and stood frozen, blocking the narrow passageway, absolutely stymied as to how to squeeze both ourselves and our luggage into the compartment.

We could have skipped the surprise and inconvenience by studying the Amtrak website a teensy more carefully or Googling “Superliner v Viewliner” before boarding either.  But, no.  We were stuck on a nostalgic image of younger, hardier versions of ourselves slinging metal-frame backpacks over our shoulders and hopping on and off trains with no prior planning, but only probable destinations in mind.

And so, the rude awakening.  We had learned our way around a roomette on The Silver Star – a Viewliner.  Viewliners are single-level and, unbeknownst to us, used exclusively on routes that originate or terminate along the “Northeast Corridor,” meaning New England, New York, or DC.

Superliners are double-deckers specifically built by Amtrak to replace single-level passenger trains.  And so they have done, except on the eastern seaboard.  It’s the tunnels.  On the East Coast, many are too low to accommodate bi-level trains.

via The New York Times

The floor plans below would have you believe Superliner roomettes are far superior

to Viewliner roomettes.

They’re bigger, right?  More spacious.

People, it’s not the square footage.  It’s how that footage is used.

As I reported in Riding the Rails – A Primer  and Riding the Rails – A Monograph, the design of the Viewliner roomette is brilliant.  It has ample storage – upper luggage compartment, wide ledge with a cargo strap, levered hooks, small-item holders, surface space on top of the cupboard toilet, small shelves below the sink and the mirror.  The clever pull-outs and fold-ups, hooks and nooks allow you to tweak the space into a variety of configurations.  It can be a simple compartment (two seats facing each other), a dining or work room (a table between the seats), a lounge (two reclining seats with or without the table between), a bathroom (sink with hot/cold/ice running water, mirror, towels), a toilet (loo, tp, trash bin), or a two-bunk bedroom.

In that last layout, the upper bunk is easily accessible.  Occupants of both bunks have their own window with an outside view.  The top-bunk occupant’s space also includes a reading light, upper-berth fan/temperature controls, a handy hook, and a compartmented pouch for glasses, phone, whatever.  Even in this configuration, two people can stand completely inside the roomette (if they stand very close together), leaving the corridor clear, and both have enough headroom to sit up in bed.

This is the available standing room in a Superliner roomette when both bunks are down.

credit: Ricky’s Journey

Can’t find it?  It’s the small, dark rectangle of floor-space, bottom center of pic, in front of the bed.  Just room enough for one person to stand upright; not enough for that person to turn around.

As for headroom, shall we compare?  Here’s someone (not me) having a lie-down in the upper bunk of a Viewliner roomette,

posted in Flicker-HiveMind

and here’s another not-me lying down in the top bunk of a Superliner.

posted by SarahZ in an Amtrak forum

On a Viewliner, the upper berth slides on a track.  (You can see the track in the HiveMind photo, at the base of the photographer’s right foot.)  When the bed is up, it sits high up, completely out of the way.

On a Superliner, the upper berth tilts up and down.  When it’s up, it’s only partly out of the way, as it secures to the wall at an angle.  It’s less a bed, really, more like a pull-down shelf.

On the Viewliner, reaching the top berth is easy.  The toilet seat, sink-shelf, and small mirror-shelf create a short set of stairs.  Plunk your butt down, and you’re sitting on your bed.  If the train is in motion, just grab onto the hand-bar to steady yourself (it’s just visible at the far right of the pic below, next to the mirror).

photo by Dave Leritz

Getting into and out of the upper berth on a Superliner is an awkward ordeal, at least for those of us who are not petite and no longer spry.  This armrest (just wider than a box of tissues) is the one and only step up.

via Tory Burch

Then again, you’re not climbing as high, so there’s that.  In fact, the ceiling is so low, I had to dive into the bunk, pushing myself horizontally across the mattress and keeping absolutely flat to avoid bumping my head.  The upper berth on the Viewliner was cozy and made me happy.  On the Superliner, it was like a coffin and made me claustrophobic.

In the Superliner double-pic above, the white thing in the center of the ceiling is the air vent.  There’s just the one.  When the room is set up for sleep, the top bunk blocks the air-flow.  I was too cold and night.  Roy was too hot.

In the Superliner roomette, the tissue-box holder does triple duty:  it is an armrest, it is the only foothold for climbing up or down from the upper berth, and it is the one and only spot for your luggage.  The Viewliner’s accommodating overhead storage is gone, as is the wide shelf and cargo strap set-up.  You can’t set a bag on top of the toilet seat, because there is no toilet.  Or sink.

Instead, there is a “closet.”  I have that in quotes, because the “closet” is is excessively narrow – about 3 inches/7.62 centimeters wide.  Check it out, there on the right side of the photo below.  And yes, this pic shows the “closet” open all the way.

photo by Dave Leritz

Not even big enough for a garment bag.  Two thin shirts or one light jacket.  That’s it, that’s what it can hold.  Oh, and there is room for a skinny purse or laptop case at the bottom.

If you are travelling alone, your suitcase is no problem.  You can stick it on the opposite seat during the day and on the top bunk at night.  If you are travelling in tandem, this is not an option.  The only option for couples is the communal luggage rack.  The rack is located on the lower level.  Virtually all roomettes are on the upper level, so accessing your bag is a bit of a pain.  Extricating your case from the rack can also be a pain, as the rack fills quickly, and your bag may end up under or behind several others.  Once you have it in hand, there’s nowhere convenient to open it.  You have to sort through your stuff in the public passageway.

We weren’t going to open Roy’s case till KCMO, so putting it somewhere inaccessible was no big deal.  The big deal was we didn’t have a luggage lock.  I’d had one, TSA-approved.  TSA cut it off anyway, leaving me with none.  It was supremely unlikely thieves would be prowling the train in the wee hours, looking for unlocked suitcases to rifle . . . but it wasn’t entirely beyond the realm of possibility, and the way our luck was going, it wasn’t a risk we cared to take.  We kept both bags in the room, and got through the day and night by rotating them from floor to bunk to seat to step and back again the whole bloody time.

So, how does Amtrak exploit the additional space gained by eliminating everything that makes a roomette a room?  What new perks does the Superliner offer roomette occupants to improve their travel experience?

The seats are a bit wider than their Viewliner counterparts.

I strongly doubt Amtrak gutted the mini-bathroom and storage areas in response to customer feedback demanding more butt-room.  What traveller would trade all that convenience just to swim in a slightly more spacious chair or sleep on a slightly broader, but still uncomfortable bed?  I’m guessing the changes were economically motivated.  Fitting roomettes with plumbing, surface areas, steps, handholds, and a special luggage compartment surely costs more than installing a couple of extra-wide seats.

Other Superliner perks?  They have a dining car in addition to the snack bar.  And meals are included in the sleeper-passenger’s fare.

As for the food . . . here again, Amtrak does its best.  Cognizant that dining cars used to be famed for the quality of their meals, they have enlisted actual chefs to create the menus.  Unfortunately, budgetary considerations continue to undermine Amtrak’s good intentions.  A fair portion of the food is pre-packaged, and the fresh stuff is simply not the highest quality.  Overall, I’d rate the dining car meals as “edible.”

There were exceptions.  Dining cars offer “local” beer (not included with the fare).  I wasn’t impressed with the selections on the Chief, California Zephyr, or Coast Starlight, but this lager on the Capitol Limited was right up my alley.

The special entree – lamb shank – served to those clever enough to reserve a dinner spot in the Coast Starlight’s Parlor Car (a Starlight exclusive) was delicious – though the veggies were Amtrak’s standard frozen carrots, corn, and fava bean mélange.  And all the desserts were, for me, unmitigated disasters.

The car attendants stop by every compartment to get the occupants’ preferred meal times.  Depending on where you are in which car, this either works out great (you ask for and get a reservation when you want it) or not at all (you ask for 8:30pm, then the attendant informs you the only time-slot still open is 5:00pm).

Each dining car table seats four.  If you are a couple, you are assigned to sit with another couple.  Charming, if you like meeting new folks and conversing with strangers at every meal.  If you don’t, you can always have your dinner delivered to your compartment.

The Superliner also has an observation car.

via The Roundhouse Railroad Podcast

The big windows and copious light are quite nice, as are the swivel seats.  The car has outlets, but not enough of them, and they’re not all conveniently placed.  There are some tables, which are best if you want to be on your laptop or pad, but you have to periodically vacate those seats during the long meal-hours.  Like the dining car, the observation car is a place to meet fellow travellers.  Roy spent gobs more time there than did I.

The whole laptop/pad thing was a moot point anyway, as the Capitol Limited had no WiFi.  Too many mountains, not enough service, they said.  Perhaps . . . but we weren’t in the gorgeous Appalachians for the entire trip.

No service in Ohio?  Or Indiana?

I fully expected to love the Capitol Limited.  I loved the gorgeous Appalachians, but other than that, the Limited experience was about coping with cramped quarters, incessantly shifting the baggage, downing not-great meals, and enduring a far-from restful first night in a Superliner upper bunk.

We arrived in Chicago four hours late.

I have all manner of sympathy with Amtrak’s poor OTP (On-Time Performance), but this performance was abysmal.  With only about 90 minutes before the Southwest Chief was scheduled to depart, we didn’t have time to leave the station.  Of course, if we had wished to leave, we’d have had a luggage problem.  Since we had coach tickets for the Southwest Chief, we weren’t entitled to any sleeper-car passenger amenities.  No lounges, no free check-your-bags-so-you-can-bop-around-town service, no priority boarding, no nothing.  Just a crowded waiting area, where I attempted to sneak a snap of an adorable Mennonite baby.

I’m guessing Mennonite from the attire and the number of Mennonite communities along the routes we travelled.  I’m pretty sure we also saw some Amish on the Limited . . . but I can’t be sure of either.  I am sure that it was lovely sharing the rails with them.  Though they don’t much socialize with folks not of their persuasion (a slightly disapproving glance or a broad, genuine smile was about the extent of our interactions), just being on board with them was a welcome reminder that America’s diversity is legion.

This is as close I got to the city of Chicago.

We did take a peek at the magnificent Great Hall of Chicago’s Union Station . . . but, of course, I’d seen that before.

It was quite a bit later than 3:00pm when the Southwest Chief finally headed down the tracks.  Still, there was a lot to like about that train.  The coach seats were fabulous.  They were cushy.  They reclined.

There was ample juice for all devices.  There was WiFi.  And there were flatlands and prairies rolling by,

rivers and fields,

and a sunset of astonishing beauty.

Elementary education completed, lessons learned.  When riding the American rails westward, travel in short hops, ride coach, and pack along some hearty snacks – for the  Superliner has its faults.  Only the views are beyond compare.

1 thought on “Riding the Rails – A Comparison”

  1. I say just live and enjoy life. You could eat at the finest rat infested restaurants in any city and walk out the door and get shot, blown up or plowed down. You could even be diagnosed with a terrible sickness or in fact, not wake up. Yeah, you could just drop dead in your sleep so people quit complaining about things and just enjoy life. And remember, we’re only passing through.

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