Cardinal Knowledge

By Guy Span

Your curmudgeon, Guy Span, is off traveling America and enjoys taking the train, when he can. But he had the misfortune to encounter Amtrak Train No. 50, AKA the Cardinal. Now we are all aware that Amtrak has equipment shortages, capital funding problems, and an unsympathetic President Bush, who would like to see the whole thing quietly go the way of all flesh. Even with these problems in mind, there is no excuse for the miserable equipment, outrageous delays, poor food, and little tiny windows found on the Cardinal.

Amtrak and its track provider, CSX, demonstrated their expertise as the train rolled into Clifton Forge, VA bound for New York City on August 27, running about one hour late. There’s a saying in the railroad biz that “a late train gets later” and the Cardinal went on to prove that with a vengeance. Amtrak had to know that 180 Virginia Tech fans were planning to embark as a group at Clifton Forge to go to DC for a football game on Sunday against USC. In fact, Amtrak had reserved three coaches for this group, squeezing all the regular passengers into the remaining coach and leaving your curmudgeon a truly remarkable and useful seat completely void of anything that might reasonably resemble a window.

The temperature on the platform at Clifton Forge hovered in the mid-90s with nothing that might look like a station, a platform cover, or shade. However, all five of us “regular” passengers boarded our coach, leaving 180 Hokies (that’s what Tech fans call themselves) to board, one at a time, with bags and coolers through one door. Considering that one person held the group tickets, the curmudgeon was amazed that this group was left sweltering in the heat, as they boarded in a style less efficient than Noah’s Ark, particularly when there is a door at either end and placing six doors in service would have reduced the nearly 25 minute delay we took embarking all the Hokies.
Once on board and moving (slowly), the curmudgeon quickly tired of staring at the wall where a window should be. So much for the plan to wile away the afternoon looking at the beautiful James River Valley before climbing the Shenandoah Mountains and dropping down into Charlottesville. Considering that lunch had been missed, the curmudgeon figured he could go to the diner and linger over food, while taking in the views from the dining car.

Yet another good idea was foiled by Amtrak, as the diner was actually a “Dinette” car, with windows even smaller than what the conductor identified as “Metroshell” coaches. While they created nifty defensive positions for archers in the event of attack, for viewing they left a lot to be desired. Now a “Dinette” car is truly a class experience. There is a set of tables at one end, with linen tablecloths and nice looking cutlery. This is not for the ordinary scum riding “coach” class, but rather reserved for the single carload of sleeping car passengers.

For the scum of the earth, there several tables at the cheap end. The slit windows are not well placed should you choose to sit, but viewing is possible. And the food, ah, the food. Simple microwavable peasant fare, such as hot dog, hamburger, or personal pizza. With ten hours left to go on this trip through hell, the Caesar salad was sold out, along with the cheese plate and anything remotely healthy. In fact, when the curmudgeon ordered the pizza, he found from the nutritional information that it provided 50 percent of his required fat content, all in one greasy little round thing barely the size of a New York slice. That turned out to be fortunate, as there was less food to waste, when the curmudgeon chucked the sizeable remainder of tasty cardboard and pizza sauce into the trash.

Returning to his windowless seat, the curmudgeon got tantalizing views of the James River Valley walking through the coach before settling in to travel the only way he could be comfortable on this train–sound asleep. That’s when another discovery was made. This coach appeared not designed for long-distance travel, as the leg rest was a minimalist affair, bolted into the bulkhead. After a lot more discomfort, it was eventually time to return to the “Dinette” for additional abuse in the form of the humble hotdog.

How can you screw up a hot dog? On the “Dinette,” Amtrak offers pre-packaged Hebrew National hotdogs. They come in a plastic wrap and the attendant shoves the whole thing in the microwave. This curmudgeon, in the past, has tried bread in the microwave and achieved two versions. One, hot and soggy and version two, hot and stiff as a board, as if it were stale. We got version two, which was probably irrelevant as, either way, the bun was inevitably headed toward the hungry maw of the trash container. The remaining hot dog was edible, but not satisfying.

Considering that the Cardinal originates in Chicago, takes almost two days to get to New York, and only operates three days a week, you have to figure someone planned it to be this horrible. No one could provide service this terrible by accident. Given that, we must give credit where credit is due, as they have succeeded beyond anyone’s wildest expectations (at providing miserable service). The Cardinal is hereby nominated the worst long-distance train in America, where Amtrak contrives to bore you, poison you, and make you as uncomfortable as it is possible to be on a train.