MAMMA SAID there would be days like this

Posted on 06/02/2016 | About Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Okay here’s the situation. I am booked on an 8:27 a.m. Amtrak train from Stamford Connecticut to Philadelphia. It’s a two and a half-hour trip that I have taken a dozen times before, so I know that with rush-hour traffic I need to leave home no later than 7:45.

Coffee in hand, I leave at 7:47 and, for the first ten minutes of the 25-minute drive to the station, traffic moves just fine. There are a couple of school buses that slow things down but that’s normal. Then suddenly, on an open road, for no apparent reason, the driver ahead of me jams on his brakes and when I follow suit the coffee I had at my lips splatters all over the front of my (until then) clean white shirt. Damp but undaunted I drive on. Traffic is still moving reasonably well and then the same driver – having braked moments earlier for no reason – this time neglects to brake when the school bus in front of him does. Crump – he goes into the back of the bus. Fortunately we were not moving very quickly so no one was hurt, however I’m now stuck in the ensuing jam. By the time I disentangle I am still a good ten minutes away from the station and it’s about eight minutes until my train’s scheduled departure time. There is hope though as, based on my prior trips, Amtrak usually manages to run at least ten minutes late. A quick check of my texts however shows no notification of a delay.

“Dammit” I think, “They can’t even be relied upon to be late when you need them to be.” If I miss this train the only way for me to make my appointment in Philly is to drive - a grueling three-hour trip down the New Jersey Turnpike that I really would prefer not to have to make. I’d also planned to work on the train, something I can’t do while driving. It’s go with the gut time: I either throw in the towel and turn right onto I-95 South or turn left, pray for a delay and do an O.J. Simpson–like sprint into the station.

I opt for the train - if I’ve missed it I can still be back in the car and on my way within ten minutes. A good omen - I find a close-in parking space and do the closest thing to a sprint that someone of my mature years can muster. Breathing heavily I reach the departure information board full five minutes after my train’s scheduled time and to my delight see a 16-minute delay posted. That elation quickly turns to annoyance that Amtrak had failed to notify me by text about the delay. I am after all a member of their ‘frequent frustration’ programme and they’re supposed to let me know about such things. Anyway all that matters now is that I am going to make the train and I head down the escalator to track two as indicated.

Little did I realize that Amtrak had not yet finished playing games with my morning. With a throng of commuter types, I waited for the train to arrive as it duly did… on another track! Someone shouted “Shit, that’s our train!” which precipitated a mad rush for the escalators to get up and over to the adjacent track. Once again Amtrak’s inefficiency saved the day as, rather than trying to make up time on a late-running train, they stayed at the platform for the prescribed three or four minutes, thereby allowing a mob of more than slightly annoyed passengers to finally get into their seats. My seat back wouldn’t recline, the air conditioning was on the blink and the WiFi was worthless but by Amtrak standards, the journey to Philly went fine and once there, notwithstanding my coffee-stained shirt, so did my meetings.

Coming home, at Philadelphia’s 30th Street Station, Amtrak treated their long-suffering passengers to the same ‘guess the platform’ game. This time the train pulled in on the opposite side of the posted platform and again no PA’s or apologies were forthcoming. At least they are consistently inconsistent.