A short ode to Amtrak

I am on the Amtrak Acela back to New York today (in the past few weeks I have been en route to a place for longer than I’ve actually spent at it, and today is no different). I was greeted by a tall, thin, genteel looking black man in a sharp navy suit. He’s wearing a cardinal red bowtie, a crisp white shirt, a vest, and a gold watch chain that makes an old-fashioned arc from buttons to blazer. He welcomed me by name, called me ma’am, asked me how my travels were going so far. I settled in my spot, plugged in my laptop, connected to free Wi-Fi, awaited my drink, and, most importantly, felt as though I was traveling in a civilized world by people earning the price of their ticket with courtesy, service and respect. I’m delayed 10 minutes so far, despite having a packed afternoon that can’t handle those minutes, and I just don’t mind at all.

If only I could get everywhere by train. As I settle into my journey home, and watch horror stories on the news, of people being molested in airports by frustratingly underpaid and undertrained employees, I wish the world were different.