It had to be all moblogging from the back of the car, as we were in transit all yesterday. And all last night and most of today thanks to Amtrak running Coast Starlight around four hours later than advertised.
It’s odd stumbling across really bad government-run, customer-facing bureacracy in the US. It’s not the way things are usually done here – which is a shame because when they try, they’re really good at it. Amtrak had it all: weird seventies decor, bad timekeeping, a dining area with a waiting list (you had to sign up for breakfast in advance). But what I really had to admire was how the bureacratic strictures were both contradictory, and arbitrarily enforced. Surely the sign of a great Brazil theme trip.
I should have taken the hint when they wouldn’t sell me tickets in advance, but did give me a special secret code number that I had to give the conductor before I’d be allowed on the train to buy a ticket. A security measure, apparently.
As it was, when I finally stumbled aboard at 6AM, having waited at Redding station since 2AM, the conductor didn’t want my secret code. What he wanted me to tell him was how much I should pay for a ticket to San Jose. “Don’t you know that?”, I said, poorly hiding my surprise. Nobody had implied that I was enjoying any special offers. Or indeed, was supposed to remember how much I intended to pay. He grumbled, got out a big book and looked it up. “$60”. Now, I couldn’t remember the price I’d been quoted, but it was definitely less than that. “You’re lucky,” he said when I questioned him, “if you look here it actually says $69 for train-bought tickets. But I usually ignore that.”
What? I was beginning to feel like maybe this was some complex haggling and/or bribing manoeuvre. “Well, you have the advantage of me,” I began to say… and the conductor grew quite frenzied. “I do not! It was you who chose to get on the train!”. I pointed out that there was not much else to do in Redding at 6AM in the morning, having waited four hours for the pleasure. “Well, that’s the nature of trains, sir,” he replied, delivering some sort of coup de random flail.
What? What? It’s the nature of trains to arbitrarily choose the time and their fare structure? I’m terrible at fashioning snappy comebacks to surreal arguments, but I do pride myself on re-engineering odd bureacratic strange-loops. I told him that I had now remembered – perfectly – what price I was quoted, as was expected of me. I revealed that I was to pay $51. He grumpily announced that he wasn’t going to argue with me (which was nice) and let me write down my chosen price and credit card number on his carbon paper and moved on. In retrospect, I think I could have got him down to $30.
I still don’t know what the secret code number was about. Oh, and if you do go on the Coast Starlight , the laptop outlets are on next to seats 19/20 upstairs on the coach carriages. Bring a two-plug adaptor, and I bet you could share with whoever is sitting there.
