Metrolink111: Here Comes Your Freight
Shelley J Alongi

 

Being with the Fans

Months ago when I came to the Fullerton train station to deal with the unexplained empathy I had and still have with rob Sanchez the Metrolink111 engineer who died in the Chatsworth train accident, I watched the others around me, the ones who knew each other and gathered in the corner on the patio to chat amiably among themselves. There were usually three or four of them, but mainly I was too involved in planning my own idea for the memorial plaque and being creatively stimulated to pay much attention. Yet something in the back of my mind nagged me: I wanted to sit with them. As time progressed and they realized I was a familiar and regular face I slowly began to join them. Here I was sitting with them again, last Tuesday, sitting in the corner just to the right of the door and the trash can; an appropriate place for someone like me who insists on spending my life savings when I go down there. The food isn�t too bad, I don�t� mind spending the money. I have three favorite places these days: Jalapenos Grille next to my residence, the food court near where I work, and the Santa Fe Express caf�. They all treat me well; I am a regular at all three places. Sitting near the trash can is okay with me since I usually have a lot of things to put in it; but sitting by the tracks waiting for trains, now that�s even better. Waiting for the trains is even better for me when I�m not getting on one; I�d much rather watch commuters and travelers make their way to their various destinations. Does this mean I want the world to pass me by? Hardly. I have a few train trips planned and so the world definitely doesn�t pass me by. If I choose to stand on the sidelines and watch most of it pass by it�s only because over the years I�ve learned what�s important to me and so I save my energy for the things that really matter.

Blow Your Horn, Baby

What seems to matter lately are freight trains. Passenger and freight lines have argued for years about the importance of each other, and while passenger trains are important and relaxing and always interesting, it is the glorious deadly freight train that seems to appeal to most of the people who sit at the station. I�m sure there have been others not sitting who have taken lots of pictures. I haven�t taken pictures, but I�ve always wondered about what the engineer thinks of all this commotion. Probably since some of them did the same thing, they have a variety of feelings on the subject. In one of the text message exchanges between Rob Sanchez and his friend mention is made of someone they both recognized taking pictures. He blew the horn he said and the fan got �all excited.� That particular exchange made me smile because I wondered what engineers thought of all of the commotion outside their windows. There, in a few words, was at least part of my answer. He saw and responded and got a response. What fun! Too bad he never saw an office worker sitting on the planter in the cold eating ice-cream! Wonder what kind of text message response that would have engendered. I guess I�ll never know. I�ll have to leave it to someone else to tell me because that office worker would be me.

But tonight the freight trains matter for a different reason. I guess I�ve gotten used to them; the overwhelming sound, the force, and sometimes the engineers. Maybe it�s always the engineers. Some might think that since I want to meet one or want to memorialize one.

Tonight the freights matter because I notice the lack of them. One can sit there for hours I suppose, but a freight train doesn�t usually take long in appearing. I keep reading about rail traffic being down, and there may be some truth to that, at least for now. I still hear the horns blow at 3:00 in the morning. But even the man who goes to the station and writes down the types of trains and the tracks they�re on says freight traffic is down. People see this by eye I suppose though the intermodal traffic is fine, according to experts. I suppose it is the auto industry hauling freight by rail that may be the biggest cause of lower rail traffic. But rail traffic has fluctuated like everything else and so when a freight does come hurtling through the station at breakneck speed or slowly pulling its cumbersome way down the rails, it is a fine thing.

We have to tie freights and engineers together because you can�t, as they say, have one without the other.

�Where�s your boyfriend,� says Larry sometimes when Chris does not make it to the station.

 �In the cab of a locomotive,� I say and he always wonders what I mean. It�s just a phrase meaning I�m always thinking of the engineer, I suppose, and so there he is, right there in that locomotive cab.

Tonight, Tuesday, I�m sitting with Larry and Bruce, Dick and Joyce, an older couple.

�How�s your exhibit going,� asks Dan.

Dick explains when I ask that he has an exhibit at the Fullerton library, a piece of fabric from the Hindenburg. Amazing what you find out about people when you take the time to ask questions.

�Haven�t seen any freights today,� I say looking at the small group gathered around the wrought iron table in the right corner of the patio.

A Metrolink comes through, I always notice that these trains don�t usually blow their horns. At least not at that station. The bells ring but no horns. Guess no one is taking pictures of them.

Soon after the metrolink train passes us by, the lights of a freight train approach.

�Here comes your freight,� says Bruce. Bruce works at the Anaheim Convention Center in the set up and tear down crews. He knows every engineer from here to somewhere, though I don�t� know where. He knows everything about everyone on the train crews, who got bumped, who got their license pulled and for what reason. Tonight, for a reason I�ll explain later, I have Rob�s plaque with me and I show him the picture.

�Do you know this engineer?� I ask. He looks at it.

�I probably know him,� he says, but I doubt if he does.

�Hey, I recognize that guy,� says Curt who sees the plaque sitting on the table. He comes up to take a closer look. I explain who it is.

�Oh, I thought I recognized that face I have a thing about faces especially if they�ve been on the news.�

�What is this special interest?� asks Larry when I tell him that I�ve got a memorial plaque for him. You see, what I haven�t told you yet is that the Santa Fe Express Caf� said they wouldn�t hang his picture on their wall, so now you know. The fans see the plaque out on the table because I haven�t put it away yet.

�I think,� I explain to the fans waiting to hear why I�ve made a memorial plaque for a man who may have been acting irresponsibly while at the controls of a train, �that he knew that he made a mistake. We should give him the benefit of the doubt.:�

�Just like the guy who drives the plane into the ground,� someone says. �They know they�ve made a mistake.�

It�s not the same. It�s like blinking and seeing what�s about to happen and knowing something went wrong. It�s just my feeling. The plaque is in my hand, it�s on top of my bookcase still in its plastic sleeve, still waiting. I�ll be making a trip to Chatsworth it seems, to find someone who knew him.

�You�re the only one who would do it,� says Lilian when I ask her why I�ve taken on this project. Maybe it�s true.

For here and now, today, and not in the future, with the plaque now in my red bag, and to continue our story, Bruce gets up to leave shortly after my freight departs.

�See you Monday,� he says.

�No,� I explain, I�m working overtime next week and I won�t be down here till a week from next Monday, that would be May 18. But then maybe not may 18 either because I�m scheduled to work overtime again that week. If they don�t� take the overtime I�ll be working for two weeks and won�t get down to the station for at least those two weeks. Guess my freight will have to do till then. And I guess I�ll keep part of my life�s savings.

Another man comes to join us, Simon, a sleeper car attendant on the Southwest Chief. Simon is a regular fixture there, too, Larry and the gang all come down to see him. In fact these are the same people that Jose tells me come to see the Southwest chief everyday and then leave. I guess it�s true. Usually at the end of the night it�s Doug and me and sometimes just me.

�Hi, I�m Shelley and I�ve heard a lot about you,� I say. The conversation drifts from subject to subject, people on the train, the woman who he made smell the blankets to see which end held the feet, because she was a �b� he says, someone we would call an opportunity guest, who is working where, farmers markets, and my bells for some reason. Simon has a big bag of cumquats and man are they bitter! Yikes! He signs the card I have for Bob who is now at Paramount Rehab and who wants to come back to the station �in the worst way� Larry says. Soon the train pulls in, Simon departs the patio, the engineer signals it�s time to go and they�re off again down the rails to Chicago.

We�ve been noticing a Utah Transit Authority car being carried by a metrolink train and engine 896 once again makes its appearance. The usual gaggle gets up to leave and I leave shortly afterward. A few more freights come to see me, and then it�s off to put the plaque on the bookcase and get ready for work.

The First Rejection of the Memorial Plaque

When Christina tells me that her mom says no to the plaque I�m initially disappointed. I come in today to ask about it, having appeared on Monday as well, but Jose says that they haven�t� seen it yet. When I appear on Tuesday and order the ham and cheese sandwich I like, I ask her if her mom has seen it. She says no.

�If she hasn�t seen it by Friday,� I say, �I�ll take it.�

Kim and Chris have both suggested I put the plaque in the caf�. I am initially against the idea to begin with but when I think of it the idea makes sense. The caf� is at a train station, many people would see the plaque, but the hanging of anything on the wall has to be approved by the owner. The owner doesn�t seem to be a very interactive person. She doesn�t ask me why I want to hang this picture, what my reason is for making it, and why this is so important. Her daughter who can barely stand working at the caf� and who complains every time she�s there has no interest in this picture. The only one who is interested the least bit is Jose who says she probably wont� say no to the plaque hanging in the caf�. Apparently he does not guess her correctly.

The Quest Continues

I�ve known from the beginning that it might be difficult to find a spot for this plaque. It may be that the time is not yet right. When I posted the fact that I have one and want to display it on his memorial page, I get a couple of angry responses from one person who claims to have lost someone on that fateful day and someone who tries to sign my name. I�ve been called obsessed, one person even said they wish I had been on that train. I have a feeling all this is coming from only one person and I may know that this person was posting angry responses from the beginning. I haven�t responded individually to any of the postings, I don�t feel it�s necessary to feed into the flame. I think people go to this page or any other page online to see what kinds of trouble they can stir up. I suspect this is what is happening here and I won�t be drawn into it. The angry postings are not stopping me from going forward with the idea. In the meantime I�ll keep going to the station, catting with the fans who sit there during cool or balmly summer evenings, and I�ll continue t look for a place to put Rob�s plaque.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2009 Shelley J Alongi
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"