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| Debby consults with attendant Michelle on the best places to pee Trooper. |
I am just back from a
fascinating week’s round trip on the California Zephyr from Chicago to
Emeryville, Calif.
One purpose was to
gather information for the upcoming 25th anniversary edition of Zephyr:
Tracking a Dream Across America and also scout out the best stops to
relieve a service dog for Traveling with Service Animals: By Air, Road,
Rail and Ship Across North America, to be published next August by the
University of Illinois Press.
Another purpose was
just to have fun. I’m a rail buff, after all.
My takeaway: Not much
has changed aboard the train since the 2015 edition of Zephyr. Crews
are almost uniformly good. Diner cuisine—quick-frozen sous-vide dishes reheated
in the galley—has actually improved, although as always some desirable entrees
on the menu can be unavailable. Timekeeping has fallen behind, partly because
of heavy freight traffic, partly because of awful weather, and partly because
locomotives and cars are getting long in the tooth and sometimes unreliable.
I wrote “almost
uniformly good” because, as always in a service industry, there can be
exceptions. The one on this trip was an officious and unsmiling conductor who
apparently did not like dogs. She appeared in the doorway of our bedroom and
fixed a gimlet stare at my service dog Trooper. Such gazes can make dogs
uncomfortable, and Trooper whined in protest.
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| Trooper in the lounge car. |
“You cannot bring that
dog to the dining car!” she said. “He’s grouchy. You’ll have to eat in your
room.”
Then she added:
“People don’t like dogs in the dining car.”
That last was a
blatant violation of the rules of the Americans with Disabilities Act. One
cannot deny a service dog access to a public venue just because someone might
object to its presence.
I did not demur.
Conductors can throw you off the train if they think you're being disruptive.
“Okay,” I said. “You’re the boss.”
Afterward, my sleeper
attendant—a dog lover to whom Trooper took an immediate shine—seemed appalled
by the incident. “He’s just fine,” she said.
After the conductor
left the train at the next crew change stop, the dining car crew warmly
welcomed our presence at all meals and even treated us—me, Debby, and
Trooper—as a party of three, giving him plenty of room under the table.
On the trip back,
another conductor knocked on our door early in the morning. “We’ll be at Green
River (Utah) several extra minutes,” she said. (We were actually running ahead
of time.) “Would you like to take your dog off for a potty break there?”
We said no, but with
thanks. We’d already peed Trooper at Salt Lake City not long before, and
planned to take him off a couple of hours later at Grand Junction, Colo.
“That’s fine,” said
the conductor with a bright smile, and she went on her way, leaving us feeling
further gratified that Amtrak personnel were watching out for us.
Back in 2015, female
engineers, conductors and on-board service crew already were old hat—but we
noticed that on this round trip they seemed to make up at least half the
Amtrakers we encountered aboard the train. Our national passenger railroad is
nothing if not diverse.
Another big change
since 2015 is the refurbished Denver Union Station, which has become the place
to be for millennials who work downtown. The swooping canopy over the arrival
and departure tracks is a sight to behold.
As for the best places
to relieve a service dog enroute, we found the choicest were Galesburg,
Ottumwa, Omaha, Fort Morgan, Denver, Glenwood Springs, Grand Junction, Salt
Lake City, Winnemucca, Reno and Sacramento—mostly crew change or smoke stops.
We did not have to ask once for the train to stop and wait at a remote station
while Trooper transacted his business.
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| A very late eastbound Zephyr meets an on-time westbound Zephyr. |
Not all these places
have grass, which young service dogs generally prefer for their toilette.
Trooper, however, is now four years old and has learned that sometimes he has
no choice. So long as a sturdy post is available for a target, he’s fine.
Both trains were very
late. The westbound trip arrived in Emeryville 7 1/2 hours behind schedule,
thanks largely to the plow on the lead locomotive being knocked out of alignment
early in the trip. It took Amtrak several hours to work out what to do, and the
decision was to cut the locomotive off and make the trip with just one unit to
Denver, where we picked up a second engine for the pull over the Rockies and
Sierras.
Oddly, the westbound
Zephyr of the day before had suffered the same plow problem in almost the same
spot, and was also late getting into Emeryville.
Our eastbound return
went swimmingly until Denver, where we were late leaving because the locomotive
computer had to be reset, causing us to run into freight traffic just outside
town and stop for an hour. The oncoming polar vortex resulted in some slow
running thereafter, and we were just a couple of hours late into Omaha.
Then—you guessed it—it
happened again. Just east of Mendota the train stopped. The lead locomotive’s
plow had been knocked out of alignment. (Things apparently do happen in
threes.)
Almost two hours
passed before the train, minus its original lead locomotive, started up
again—and stopped scarcely half a mile later. A freight train in front of us,
the conductor said, had struck a car that slid on the ice through a crossing,
and there were injuries. Another two hours passed while the ambulance arrived
and the authorities cleared the wreckage and allowed the railroad to open
again.
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| Debby catches up on her needlepoint in the lounge car. |
Meanwhile, the vicious
polar vortex of January 2019 had shouldered its way south and by the time
the Zephyr tied up at Chicago Union Station 4 1/2 hours late, the temperature
outside had dropped to minus 5 degrees with a biting wind chill of 20 below.
Late as we were, I was almost sorry to leave our snug sleeper room.
A splendidly warm Uber
met us just outside the station and had us home in half an hour.
