travel – RobinCravey

Neptune Hotel, Providence

It’s a funky old downtown hotel, several steps up from the sidewalk. The esthetic seems to be artsy threadbare. Several good bars are just around the corner. The train station is about a mile away.

A friendly clerk handles check in at the desk and explains that there is hotel bar, but only open on certain nights, and a coffee shop only open in the mornings. She finds the bellman, who then carries my bags up with cheerful solicitude. The main hotel is another half dozen steps up.

The lobby is small, with black couches and bad lighting. Neon signs decorate here and there, and a generous expanse of mirrors improves the sense of space. The floors are tile or planking with occasional rugs.

From the main floor, you go up in a “Lift” that has a door on hinges that opens on a steel cage. The cage travels slowly up and down in a concrete shaft that you could reach out and touch as it slides past, if you were so foolish. The concrete is raw between floors, with a painted red door at each floor. I’m told the hotel was once a brothel.

The lights are garish, I can say that. None meant for reading. All dim and glaring at the same time. The halls are shadowy.

The room is dark with spots of illumination at key points. When the sun comes in the western windows, the light is good. There is a vintage half-couch that molds you into a laid-back posture almost like a hammock. Hm. The bathroom is black tile, gloomy, and there is no hot water.

The television is easy to operate, unlike in most hotels. A tiny desk allows work at a laptop. There are plenty of electrical outlets.

The bed is big and comfortable, with adequate covers and good pillows. I slept well and made it to the train station by 5 am.

Steps from the entrance to the lobby — Desk clerk at the entrance

Onward by rail

Why do I ride the rails? First, because it’s the mode of travel that contributes least to the destruction of the natural world. Second, because it’s miles better than the flying torture chambers of the airlines. Third, because it’s much less work than driving. Most of all, because it restores romance to the sense of travel. It’s adventure!

I had a hard time sleeping this trip, going north. My insomnia is unpredictable. My trip going south, crossing different track during the night, I slept well in the roomette. Can’t say much for sleeping in coach: it’s possible.

Think about all those train stations named Union. Remember that President Lincoln, while he was wrestling with a civil war, promoted the building of the first coast to coast track that tied the Union together. We can do it again.

Look for upcoming adventures:

The rolling stock; The tracks; The politics; The funding; The cost; The alternatives.

The routes, Austin to Providence

Providence is about 1600 miles from Austin. By air it takes about five hours. By car it takes about 30 hours. By train it takes about 60 hours. That’s three days and two nights.

Take a look at the route map. First, notice that there is a gap in the network along the Gulf Coast. That section was taken out by Hurricane Katrina. It is scheduled for restoration this year. Something the map doesn’t show is that on most routes, the train only runs once a day, and not fast, either. It’s a skeletal system.

To fly between Providence and Austin can cost: basic economy under $200; first class about $500. To ride between Providence and Austin can cost: coach, under $300; business, up from $300. Here’s the kicker. You’re going to be on the train for two nights. You want a room. A roomette adds about $500 per night, or $1000.

You can compromise by riding coach one night and sleeper one night. That’s what I did this trip. Or, you can fly part way and take the train part way. I’ve done that, riding the Acela to Washington and flying from there. That’s pretty easy, and comfortable—a one-day trip, no overnight.

How about one overnight and a shorter flight?

Here’s something I want to try next. I could fly to Chicago and ride the sleeper from there. I like the crew on the Texas Eagle, and I’d like to see them again. But the tracks have some rough patches. And the dining is decent but not great.

Amtrak pulled all the full service diners for all the trains during covid, or so I’m told. Since then, they’ve restored full service dining to some trains, but not the Texas Eagle.

Or, I could ride the sleeper down to Jacksonville and fly from there. The Silver Star runs from Washington to Florida. And the Silver Star has full dining.

The Crescent runs from New York to New Orleans. If I get off in Atlanta, I can get a direct flight to Austin. Or, I can ride all the way to New Orleans. Then the Sunset Limited to San Antonio and the Texas Eagle into Austin. I don’t know how well the connections match up. I could fly from New Orleans.

So, there are choices to check out.

Providence Amtrak/MBTA Station.

The station in Providence is a modest version of the grand stations in Washington and Chicago with high ceilings, a nice concourse, and a café. But the train platforms are downstairs, under the station, and everything down there looks gray with soot and grime.

Providence Station is the reason I had to pick up my bags in Washington and carry them onto the Acela. Providence refuses to provide baggage check service.

Chicago

From the pocket device, I see that there is a pub named Dugan’s nearby. I walk east. It’s a pleasant, comfortable place.

A long brick box stretches back from the front window and door. In the front half of the bar, an island bar holds the middle of the space. In back, people sit at tables and chairs. Mia, the barmaid, is nervous on her first day at work. Couple by couple, the bar begins to fill. The sound of talk and laughter fill the air. Mia is busy, animated.

A few months ago in Chicago, I walked north, to Dylan’s. It was more wood than brick.

Dugan’s Pub in the afternoon before the happy hour rush.

Old wood and raw brick walls enclose the bar at Dugan's Pub. — Dugan’s Pub in the afternoon before the happy hour rush.

Stations along the route

Austin station is an insult to train riders. This is what you get from a city that gives endless lip service to public transit, but does very little about it. It’s on the edge of downtown, but it’s hidden away up a hard-to find dead-end street behind the YMCA. The station itself is underwhelming, with a small inside waiting room and not even the most basic food services.

As we roll north, the conductor announces the stops. Most are quick. At some, through-passengers are allowed to get off, stretch their legs, and breathe fresh air or have a smoke. The conductor offers a wry caution, “When all aboard is called, enter the train. If you are not on the train when the train leaves the station, you will be left. That’s all right, you can catch the next train tomorrow.”

At Dallas Union Station, I get off to stretch my legs. The trainside walkways are pretty nice, red brick edged by that yellow bumpy caution strip. Little canopies are spaced down the middle. There are several sets of double tracks. If I walk down a way, I can get a look at the station building, brick painted while. A walkway crosses all the tracks and leads to the station, but I don’t want to leave trainside.

At St. Louis Union Station I get off again. The trainside platform is bare concrete with the yellow edge, but it’s clean. The tracks are out in the open air, under the sky. A hulking skyway rises from the platform and crosses other tracks, crosses car traffic, ducks under a raised highway, and disappears.

Boarding platform outside train station. — Dallas Union Station beside the tracks.

Train beside platform — Dallas Union Station beside the tracks.

In the sleeper on the Texas Eagle

After supper, I head back to my room. Actually, it’s a roomette—a little room about 3 x 7 with the corridor on one side and the windows on the other. Two little bench seats face each other. There’s a tiny pullout table, but I don’t pull it out, much. The seats pull out to a recliner, and I do pull those out.

The upholstery and wall coverings are dark royal blue, which makes the room dark, and the lights are barely adequate. I lean back, with a pillow under the small of my back, reading a novel.

Walt, the sleeper man, comes by to ask me when I want my bed turned down. The two seats make into a lower bunk, and an upper bunk pulls down from the ceiling. I’m alone, so I only need the lower bunk made up. I ask him to put out some towels, so I can take a shower, and he says he will.

The roomettes share a shower downstairs. The full rooms have showers and toilets in suite. I can’t afford a full room. I’d like to, but no can do.

I don’t spend a lot of time in the roomette. It’s cozy, but close. One interesting feature: the room doors cannot be locked or even latched from the outside. And frequently, as the train speeds up and slows down, the doors slide open. It’s not unusual to come back to your room and find the door open. Don’t worry, it’s just the rocking of the rails.

The train generally runs between pretty smooth to a little shaky, but sometimes it veers into wobbly or even jerky. When it’s jerky, that interdimensional space between the cars can raise your hackles, as the car behind you lurches left while the car before you lurches right.

I decide to take a quick shower and change into my jammies. The shower room is a small cubicle, with another cubicle for undressing and dressing. Walls are drab gray vinyl. The shower head is on a wand, the water pressure is good, and the water is plenty hot.

I get back to my room in time for Walt to come by and make my bunk. I settle in with a book. The overhead light is really poor, and the reading light casts a glare. I brought a lantern, but it’s in my rolling bag downstairs. To hell with it.

I punch off the lights and close my eyes. First, I punch the call button for the attendant. I don’t want the attendant, but the call button is next to the light switch, so I punch it by mistake. I punched the call button by mistake in the toilet and the shower, too. I felt like a nuisance, but the attendant never came, so I stopped worrying about it.

Soon I notice that the car is repeatedly jerking and bucking, tossing me back and forth in the bed. This doesn’t help my insomnia. We’ve run into some bad track. And we keep running on bad track most of the night. I sleep in short dozes. Finally, about 5:30, I get up and get dressed.