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| View of the Pecos River in West Texas from a dirty train window. |
In San Antonio, a coach and a sleeper car from the Texas Eagle, which had arrived earlier from Chicago, were attached to the end of our car. This was going to take some time, so I got up and went out on the platform where a few passengers had gathered, mainly smokers.
Around 8:30 a.m., we left San Antonio, passing by the Alamo. In the distance we could see the hill country. The train turned south, and we were heading into the prairie.
After leaving the prairie, we stopped at Del Rio, which had a pretty pink stucco station and looked new. From there, we caught our first glimpse of Mexico, just beyond the Amistad National Recreation Area. A park ranger boarded the train and talked about the history of the area and the terrain and pointed out landmarks, such as the Pecos River Bridge, once one of the tallest bridges in the country. He told us to keep an eye out for the miniature deer that roamed the area.
Not long after we left Del Rio, we rode through some small canyons at a pretty good speed, giving the sensation of riding a small but fun roller coaster. Another park ranger gave a narrative about the Big Bend National Park, as the train skirted it. We also learned that some of the towns we would be going by were lures for artists. I could see why this was true. The train seemed to be continuously looping around the same mountain ranges that changed colors on each side–sometimes emanating pastel hues and then changing to black and gold. It was amazing to watch these color changes from the same mountain ranges. Well... at least for the first dozen times. As hard as I tried to maintain an appreciation for this beauty, it did begin to wear off after several hours.
***
As the day wore on, the children in our car tired of their techno toys and brought out the cards and board games they had brought for the trip. A teenage boy, who had been riding on the lower level with his grandmother, came up to our car and joined the kids. This boy was getting a lot of attention on the train because of his size. He was over six feet and probably weighed 300 pounds or more. The first question asked of him was his age. He said he was 15. And next, "Do you play football?" He answered, "Yes." He reminded me of William Perry, the former player for the Chicago Bears, who was affectionately called “The Refrigerator” or “The Fridge.” Since I never learned this kid’s name, I will call him “The Refrigerator Kid.”
I was first struck by the way The Refrigerator Kid’s demeanor changed in regard to the people he was around. When I saw him in the lower level hall talking to his sweet-faced grandmother, he reminded me of a little boy in the way he deferred to her, obviously with great love and respect. Upstairs with the kids, he acted more like an adolescent, laughing and joking with them. And then he decided to flirt with our car attendant.
Our car attendant was a young, attractive black woman, who seemed very mature and well grounded. She was attentive and conversational with everyone in the car, but the middle-aged and older women especially liked talking to her.
As she was taking dinner reservations for the second night, The Refrigerator Kid said, “When we get back to LA, I want to take you out on a date.”
She was not amused or taking this comment lightly. “I could get in trouble for even talking to you about going on a date,” she told him. “I am 31 years old.”
“It don’t matter to me that you are 31,” he shot back.
“Well, it matters to me that you are 15, and this conversation is over,” she said.
The middle-aged women, sitting nearby and listening, applauded her with smiles. One of them scolded him and said, “Don’t you be trying to get her in trouble.”
As soon as the car attendant moved on, he was back in adolescent mode, cutting up and laughing with the kids. Something about this kid pulled at my heart strings. Maybe it was because everyone constantly commented on his size. I wondered if this bothered him. Maybe it was because he said he was an only child who lived with his parents in "the hood," as he called it (Compton). Maybe it was because he at times bragged about where he lived but was so clean cut, well mannered and NEVER spoke any profanities or obscenities. In fact, there seemed to be an innocence in his baby face and loneliness behind his bright smile. At times, I would catch a wistful look on his face as he watched some of the kids with their parents. He just seemed to want to belong somewhere.
***
All day the train had rolled by well maintained fencing, but it was difficult to see what the fencing was keeping in or out. Few houses were visible, and the ones we saw were usually set way back with nothing but land around them. Throughout the day, the train had been climbing, ever gently, without any sense of pulling or struggling, and we were now at just over 4,000 feet, the highest elevation we would reach on the trip. And we were now in the desert.
Finally, after several spotty looks at I-10, we traveled alongside the interstate for a while. I thought for sure we were close to El Paso. It wasn’t long before we saw some cultivation in the desert. On one side of the tracks, the desert was suddenly green but still barren on the opposite side. Ahead of this, we began rolling through some neighborhoods. My husband and I noticed air conditioning units were placed on the roofs of the houses and wondered why. .
Since we had arrived on schedule, we were given some time to get off the train and go inside the beautiful and historic station.
After leaving the train station, we traveled past a hillside covered with small houses, and it was here, that we learned we were within 30 feet of Mexico. Our kids were fascinated to “see” Mexico from their seat.
Leaving El Paso, we were immediately in New Mexico and back in the desert. And then we were
stopped in the desert. Freight traffic was heavy here. For a while we would stop and then go a little ways and then stop again. At times, it was hard to tell if we were moving or stopped. The freights would be moving so fast next to us, that it seemed like we were moving, too. It was getting dark, and some of the scrubby bushes in the desert looked like people walking. At first, I thought I was “seeing things” until the woman in the seat in front of me said, “Are those people or bushes?” It was a relief to learn that it wasn’t just my eyes that were being tricked.
For more than an hour, we waited while freight trains zoomed by. Some of them were extremely long. It was completely dark when we began moving. The Continental Divide was just ahead, but we wouldn’t be able to see anything now.
Just like the night before, the train picked up speed again. And in spite of the noise from the wheels, I was getting sleepy. I wanted to stay awake and see the lights of Tucson. A few people in our car were still awake and talking softly. All the kids were sleeping.
I had brought some fleece throws for each of us to use for blankets. They were the perfect size for our seats and provided just the right amount of warmth at night when the car grew cooler. Snuggling under my throw, I tried to keep my eyes open.
A few hours later, I awoke as some passengers were gathering their luggage to deboard at Maricopa, near Phoenix. I had missed Tucson. No need to try and stay awake now.
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