Last weekend, my sister-in-law and I took the train to New York. Unfortunately, so did half the population of the east coast, and they all showed up at the same time.
Friday, 4:30...the departure gate is not even listed, so I go out to the front of the station to meet her. Friday 4:40...we return to the deparature area to find a line that would rival the Great Wall in length. This was even worse than the lines at Disneyland because there were no colorful cartoon characters to entertain us. In all fairness though, there was a man in back of us who had a lot of colorful words to say about the length of the line. Not quite the same thing, but close, and we did learn some new words, although I think a few of his suggestions may have been anatomically impossible.
Naturally, by the time we got onto the train, all of the cars were filled except the quiet car. We snagged two seats together at a table for four near the back of the car, and took out our stack of magazines and ipods. Maybe this quiet car thing wouldn't be so bad after all. Without being able to chat nonstop (Whispered conversations only? Please, we're irish. We don't even know how to spell whisper.) , we couild devote ourselves to learning which bathing suit is best for our body type and the top ten things guys really want to do in bed ( okay, so there weren't a lot of surprises here). Two minutes later, a man sat in one of the other seats, and we pulled out of the station.
First came the general announcements: Where the train was headed, the first stop we would make, the fact that the train was sold out, etc. Then came the special announcements for the quiet car: no cell phones or other noisemaking devices, no conversations above a whisper. Of course, they repeated this at top volume several times, just to make sure we understood what it meant to be in the quiet car. They then repeated it again at our first stop ten minutes later and once more at the stop after that. Add to that the fact that the conductor came marching down the aisle at every stop demending tickets at the top of his voice and, well, they call this the quiet car? Can you say "irony" boys and girls?
Despite the fact that most of the people probably didn't want to even be in the quiet car (I'm guessing this wasn't the first choice for the family with four children) We tried to be good little do-bees and set our phones on vibrate, not to mention texting everyone telling them of our unfortunate circumstance. Of course, by the time we figured out how to do this, we had both received several calls. We were making friends already!
About thirty minutes into the trip, the guy across from us did decide that he wanted to be our friend. He turned off his computer and pulled out a bag of chocolate cookies, which he offered us. We politely declined and returned to our magazines and ipods. He went to the cafe car and returned with plates, cups and cartons of milk, which he distributed among the three of us. Apparently it was snack time. I wondered if nap time was next or perhaps show and tell.
Once again, we tried to decline. I, personally, have not had a glass of milk since I was about ten, and I was not about to make an exception to my "no milk" rule now. (And adding chocolate to it does nothing but ruin a perfectly good food--the chocolate, not the milk).
He put a cookie on our plate and insisted we at least try it, attempting to entice us by regaling us with the history of this cookie and how it is beloved by people the world over. Finally, we tasted the thing, out of consideration for our ears, which were beginning to bleed. In retrosect, we should have held out longer, as in forever, because the only thing that will ruin chocolate more than milk is raw coconut mixed in with it and huge salt granuals sprinkled on top of it. Yuck!!!
Somehow, he was able to divine that we did not care for his cookie (maybe it was the gagging noises, or it could have been the razors we pulled out to shave our tongues -- and they say guys aren't intuitive!). Did that stop him though? Nope, it didn't even slow him down. Chocolate cookies not working for you? How about a box of Belgian chocolates? No? Let me show you a picture of my cute little dog. (I'm thinking the quiet car was not his first choice either.)
Apparently, ipods, magazines and insulting the man's cookie wasn't enough to convince him we were not interested in bonding with him. It was time for a more direct line of approach. We pulled out the cellphones and blackberries and began texting like crazy. We got up and went to the restroom, threw away the garbage(a.k.a. the cookie), and we encouraged the glare of the man across the aisle. Still no effect. He was determined to share his life with us if not his chocolates.
Just when we began to truly despair, we arrived at our destination. When last seen, our friend had found a new victim (I think it was it was the man from the line, and I'll bet he had a few more colorful words to say after about five minutes), and was happily hounding him as he took the stairs up into the station.
We made sure we found only two seats together on the way back, and not in the quiet car.
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