All Aboard

Having been away for a week, there're many wonderful experiences I could write about...meeting new and old friends, meaningful time with extended family, adventures in three major cities within one week...instead, I'm going to write about an Amtrak experiment.

My father and I had gotten into something of a debate over whether Business Class on Amtrak provided any genuine value or not. To my thinking, a footrest and more space sounded worth the nominal extra money for the 3+ hour ride from Washington, DC to NYC after three hectic days. Dad claimed the same cars were used for both so-called "Business Class" as for the regularly-priced "Quiet Car". I decided to put his theory to the test. So, it was comfortable Business Class for the longer ride to NYC and Quiet Car for the shorter, 1 1/2+ hour ride from NYC to Philadelphia.

No complaints at all about the journey north. Coming back, we entered the Quiet Car and looked around for seats. I did notice the seats were smaller and there were no footrests. I usually sit across from my husband and son when we're faced with two-seat rows and I sat in a seat midway in the train car. Just before my husband sat down, I noticed his intended seat was covered with a watery splotch.

"Wait! Wait!" He turned around. "Don't sit there, it's wet."

"Wet with what?"

"I don't know and don't want to know."

By this point, many of the two-seat rows had single occupants, so my husband and son quickly took the row in front of the original choice. The train started and, after a minute, my husband suddenly stood up and looked down at his seat. He walked over to me.

"That seat's wet, too! It soaked through my pants!"

"Eww! What is it?"

"I don't know and don't want to know." He looked a little frantic. "Surely, it's rain."

I stared at his abandoned seat. "How would it be rain? It's the aisle seat, not the window seat, and there aren't any leaks."

He moved with our son to the next row forward, glanced down, then hissed at me, "This seat is wet, too!"

By now I was trying to figure out how this could be possible. How could there be three aisle seats, one after the other, soaking wet? The Quiet Car has a sign, reminding people to refrain from talking or using their cell phones...surely a reminder that there were toilet facilities available shouldn't be necessary?

Eventually, my husband and son ended up quite a bit away from me. At the next stop, a man boarded and slid in the seat in front of me. Before he sat down, he smiled and we exchanged pleasantries. In spite of the very clear Quiet Car warnings, he began talking to me about any number of things.

Then, he asked the awkward, "Which station do you get off at?"

Before I could say a word, my husband had instantly appeared, suddenly reviewing our travel itinerary. I guess the man in front of me got the hint and began observing the Quiet Car rules. My husband walked slowly back to his seat. Maybe a little too slowly. It was only then that I'd realized the seat of his pants were visibly soaked from his earlier train seat. But, no one said anything. It was the Quiet Car.