She Likes Trains: Rail Nut New Years Eve My number one engineer, I’ve shamelessly stolen your phrase because it fits here. Don’t mind too much, please. At the very start of 2014, ready to leave the train station in capable hands, I reflect that 2013 was indeed a good year. I’ve kept my job, my life, and my apartment. I went to Lancaster twice and saw my number one engineer. I’ve been christened his number one rail nut friend. Together all of us have fought the good fight and kept the train faith. Let us march forward into 2014 with positivity, good fortune, and grimeless trains. And, then, faithful foamers, let us convene again in 2014 for the next rail nut new year’s eve and ring in 2015 in true rail nut style. Tuesday, December 31, 2013, I work my eighth day in a row, having begun my eight day work week on Christmas Eve. on this balmy morning, I arrive to find the usual regulars hanging about the Starbucks where I usually grab coffee and breakfast. Sometimes I just come to chat while waiting for my alarm to let me know it’s time to head off to work. Discussion centers around Starbucks being less efficient these days. This state of affairs was decidedly not present at the last management change. Now, because we start work later than usual, I go to Subway and purchase a breakfast sandwich and two five dollar subs. The ham and cheese and cold cut trio will be lunch and dinner today. The last eight days have seen me working straight through, getting three paid holidays, the money going to catch up the utility bills so that I can concentrate the remainder of January's pay checks on rent and food. It has been a fairly quick eight days. We have had a mixture of busy and slow times. The comingling states have allowed both half hour lunches in order to meet demand, and enough time between calls to update my expanding railroad journal. The one exciting thing to happen on a nice, warm Christmas day is that we get locked out of our building at work because the servers that recognize the identification cards and open the doors for us are down. We spend two and a half hours locked out, talking, texting, making Starbucks runs for the bathroom and coffee. "Merry Christmas locked out of our building and still getting paid" I text to my number one engineer, who works Christmas, just like his number one rail nut friend. Since we start late on the holidays somehow I knew he was working and so figured it was safe to text him. "Merry Christmas" he texts back, a message I pick up later. "Fox Sports west is broadcasting a September Angels game if ur bored" I return. He is an Angels fan. Did I tell you that? I think I did. I would never have the impression that Glenn was ever bored. I may be wrong. All I know is he texted Merry Christmas and made me happy. Now, tonight, New Year's Eve, after the day's work passes into another holiday memory, the plan is to visit the Fullerton train station for my third year in a row of ringing in the new year with the first train. This has been a ritual since 2011. hard to imagine since tripping over trains in the dark in 2008 that I've spent the last three New Years Eves here. I take my usual bus route from work, the 47 travelling south on Anaheim Boulevard, reaching its new spot just south of the signals for the railroad. In the background I overhear a woman asking if two other ladies, looking it seems for some activity in Fullerton, know if the free food will be offered that night. They’re new to the area, they say, high heels clacking on the worn concrete parking area as they hurry to get away. Wheeling her shopping cart toward me I ask if I can be of assistance. She’s looking for the food. Oh, yes, this is Tuesday. I’m sorry, I don’t know if it’s going to be here tonight. Are you waiting for it? She wants to know. No, no, not me. The sandwiches rest in my overstuffed bag along with apples and cookies. We walk toward the station, threading our way through people waiting for the usual trains. Metrolink and Amtrak keep their usual schedules tonight as they have done since I’ve been here. As I approach the platform ready to walk to the west side of it to take stock of the situation she along with another woman warns me away from the tracks. This seems to happen less and less these days, maybe because I’ve figured out when the best time is to do all my walking. Still, five years after being here people obviously unfamiliar with me warn me away from the tracks. Some actually try to approach, to pull me away from them even though I’m minding my own business. This action gets a series of responses. Tonight seeing her about to approach I warn her, too. Wait till she falls, says her companion. I always try to take this in stride knowing patience people have with me, but I usually fall short of that mark. One of these days I’ll get it right. But, not tonight. Consistently, the train station is a quiet place to celebrate new year’s eve. The night clubs, The Slidebar Café most notably, but by no means eliminating the others, conduct a thriving business. As the night grows cooler and later, the drunken celebrants spill on to the concrete parking places and out the doors. Their murmuring voices, sometimes loud, sometimes not, mingle with the music, largely modern dance beats. Together, located across from the bus docks, all endeavor to outdo each other in drowning out the old year and blurring in the new. By the time this evening comes to a close, several cases of alcohol poisoning, all occurring at local businesses, not our side of the tracks summon the paramedics. Fortunately, for all of us, no one strays onto the tracks. Around us, punctuating the night with activity are the participants in the First Night in Fullerton. A drum core performs at a church. A carnival like atmosphere fills the air with music and perhaps the fragrance of cooking food. But, I have not come to see all this. I have come to enjoy the relative quiet. The trains run on regular schedule. But, the crews are different. I can’t help thinking that four years ago I talked to Glenn on a New Year’s Eve. Now, all my regulars aren’t regular. They take time off around the holidays. It seems every few years I have to reintroduce myself to the crews. This isn’t always easy to do, especially on a holiday. Not knowing how many new engineers are in the cabs, or just how many don’t want to talk to me, or even whether I’m making my intensions clear, I’m not always successful. It’s harder these days to engage them, mostly, I think, because my schedule doesn’t allow me to appear as often as I did in those first frantic days. Maybe what happened in 2009 was just meant to be. I think I’ll meet more of the engineers by listening to the radio. When I end up in a room with a bunch of them I can just ask what number and say ok I know you and then get names that way. Tonight, I’m not thinking of getting future names. I’m thinking of who will be there and who won’t. About 6:00 I tell one of the foamers that I’m going to track three. “I’ve got engineers to meet.” I’m not sure if he said “have fun with that” or “good luck with that.” A few weeks later as I make my way across the bridge someone asks the same thing. I think they know I’m trying to do what pleases me: meet the engineers. It’s a four year long story of name gathering and several successes. And, you’ll all still have to line up behind my number one engineer. Now, bell clanging and engine throbbing, my first train meet pulls into Fullerton. I’ve mentioned before that I can sometimes recognize who is running the train by the distance at which the bell is sounded. Tonight, because it’s New Year’s Eve, and because the bell is far back, I know it’s not Carey. I don’t know who it is. He doesn’t know me. It doesn’t occur to me till later to listen to the Orange County stream on Tune In radio to see if I can hear any of the transmissions from 606. It’s sometimes more magical for me not to have radio access. Since September 2013 it seems to be one of the few ways I have to know what’s going on. I think sometimes radio communication just fuels my passion even more. And, if the truth be known, as much as I love listening to Glenn, I think if I hadn’t met him before radio communication I’d be a little intimidated. I think I’m something now, just not intimidated. After no response from 606 I make my way to track four to occupy my favorite spot, the first bench just shy of the fence on Lemon. Once again it is the MPI that greets us when train 642 pulls to the bumper on track 4. The bumper shields the wall where track four ends. I sit there, unmanicured hands in my lap, grip at my feet. A conductor passes me. There is no crew response. And, somehow, it’s ok. It’s just nice to be here. Meeting 608 is a little different. Amtrak 685 is late and will use track 3. Since I’m not sure whether Metrolink or Amtrak will come first I go back to the bench by the six car marker, next to the trees. I wait. Metrolink comes first, but I stay seated and do not know who my engineer was that day. Wonder if it was bobby? I’ll never know. Somehow, based on later experiences, I think Bobby got moved back to his San Bernardino line. Wonder when I’ll see him again. After making my usual treks over the bridge to visit my unresponsive trains tonight I head back to the north side of paradise. Here, sit the foamers. The conversation is always interesting here. I don’t follow all of it. Robert, one of the foamers, demonstrates the gun app on his phone, shooting it for those interested in generated sound and video. A man, he says, thwarts a home invasion by taking his gun and forcing the robber at gunpoint to report himself to the police. Discussion about how to properly shoot guns and their advantages populates the cool, balmy night. There isn’t much to report except that it is nice to be here after eight days of work. We indulge in the usual pizza feast. Later on, Robert the attorney messages me on FaceBook asking who is there. The usual: Nathan, Simon, Kyle, Brett, Scott, Shawn, Timothy, and a man who recognizes me walking on Brookhurst near where I live. Among the rail nuts gathered for the momentous occasion of celebrating the end of 2013 and the beginning of 2014, I’m the only girl. It’s sometimes funny the things we talk about while waiting at a train station for the first train of 2014. Somehow, Robert has new glasses. They happen to be the ones that Glenn told me he ordered. The ones, he says, that make him look like he’s from outer space. The expensive ones. Kathy at work says they are a gimmick. I wonder if he ever got them. I’ll just have to ask. Of course, since it’s New year’s Eve and I might look different than I did last year, I have Brett take a picture of me standing by the tracks. This year I do look a little different. Earlier in the year I’ve purchased an engineer’s hat, bandana and whistle wrapped up as a package. I’ve taken several pictures with it. And, tonight, clad in my Christmas green sweater, along with two or three scarves, one being one with the Frozen logo on it, the latest Disney movie, I do in deed look a little different. I send this picture to my Facebook page and then to Glenn. Of course, we have to wish Glenn a happy New year. All your rail nut friends wish you a happy new year, I put on his voice mail. I’m not stupid enough to call at midnight and wake you, I say. I’m sure he just shakes his head, sometimes. I only know tonight we all wish him a happy new year, especially after October 19 and the bicyclist struck by 269. Happy New Year Number one engineer! It is with a growing sense of anticipation that we watch as BNSF 6777 approaches on track 1, eastbound. Soon, the year will end and we will all take our positions on the platform to welcome the new train, usually a freight. We watch as it passes us and proceeds off into the distance. The east bound train makes its way to its final destination. Soon, there is a message on the scanner, Danny heard it, Brett says. The train that has just passed us 6777 has just been involved in a fatality. Score! Touch down! to fatality at mp 38, a model train store, says Allan later when I asked why someone mentioned milepost 38. The head end of the train was at Impirial at the old crossing, now replaced by a bridge. According to the engineer, the man sat between the rails, his back to the approaching train. Later, after the accident had been reported, I heard the crew talking to dispatch. When the engineer was asked if he desired relief from duty, he said he was fine. Dispatch asked the engineer to ask the conductor “his preference.” This gives me an idea about how to ask Glenn a question about the accident within my own comfort level. I always want to know if he’s ok and now I can ask if his dispatch asked if he wanted relief from duty. Is this a standard question? I assume he said yes since his replacement called the signals. Or, maybe he was on the train? I’ll have to ask him. Listening to this exchange gave me an idea about how to ask my question. Sitting on the bench in cage two listening to the radio traffic I think of my friend again. Every time something happens it gives me an idea for a question. I’m glad I have such an accommodating engineer when he has time. A long time passes while we wait for the beginning of 2014 to dawn, hopefully not as cold and foggy as two years ago when we couldn’t catch the road number on the first train of 2012. Now, visibility extends far past the pedestrian bridge to track three. As the new year approaches, the sparkling cydar makes its way around. The city of Fullerton puts on its fireworks spectacular, making up, some say, for the fact that we didn’t have it last year. It is considerably noisier and more active than last year. On our side of the tracks Frosty makes his appearance. The inflatable snow man has a hole in his posterior, something I remind them of since I have the audio/visual on my iPhone from 2013 to prove it. Around us, the temperature remains constant. The first thing to occur in 2014 is the ringing in of the New Year, complete with sparkling cydar, my train whistle, party horns, and the foamer carol. The second thing to occur is the arrival of Amtrak 595, thirty-nine minutes or so delayed because of BNSF6777’s fatality. We wave it in. the engineer blows the horn. It is, after all, the first train of the year. Happy New Year AMTK595! We continue to watch for an hour more, and decide to clean up the party fixings. By 1:00 most are ready to go, citing the potentially dangerous roads as a reason to leave early. Two of the guys give me a ride home. Sitting by myself on the bench they come back to ask if they can give me a ride and so I accept it. We linger as the first freight lineup appears on main 2, two. We watch and wave and then take our leave. At the very start of 2014, ready to leave the train station in capable hands,I reflect that this has been a good year. I’ve kept my job, my life, and my apartment. I’ve been to Lancaster twice and seen my number one engineer. I’ve been christened his number one rail nut friend. Together all of us have fought the good fight and kept the train faith. Let us march forward into 2014 with positivity, good fortune, and grimeless trains. And, then, faithful foamers, let us convene again in 2014 for the next rail nut new year’s eve and ring in 2015 in true rail nut style.
Copyright © 2014 Shelley J Alongi |