She Likes Trains: Sleepy Freights Back in a strange kind of way to the Union pacific, sleepy freights, the last meal, the engineer in training and just hanging with trains. It doesn’t get much better than this; butI bet it will. The first month of 2012 is gone and I’ve spent most of it working for Disney and typing transcripts, converting audio interviews of a very academic nature into text files. Today, Tuesday January 31, I spend eight hours at the Fullerton station, a place that started out for me to be academic. I went there to get information. I have found other places to get information about trains and such, but the sheer amount of teasing I take from the patio faithful and now one conductor on the Laguna train has turned it into a more social place, still academic, sometimes. Only the engineers don’t tease me, but I’m sure things will change when I meet more of them. The engineers and conductors are, at least out here on the passenger lines, at opposite ends of the train mostly doing their work, so I don’t talk to many conductors. It was the engineer that got me into railroading as you no doubt know by now, so this was where I started. Still, this is the fascinating place for me. Railfans who know say the conductor runs the train. Okay, I have my theory on that; very simple. Here it is. Chatsworth proved the engineer runs the train. The conductor can run the train, tell the engineer when to go but if the engineer doesn’t run the train by the signals, it doesn’t matter who runs the train, does it? So tell the engineer where to go and how to get there if you want, but if he/she doesn’t do it, what does any of it matter? Someone will say well that engineer wasn’t paying attention. Apparently not. I rest my case. In my own story, though, we’re not talking about power here, I was brave enough two years ago to get one phone number, and he teases me, but not at the station anymore. You know that story. Give the engineers time, they’ll tease me, or run away. I haven’t had any of them run away yet. They’re mostly a hearty lot, I think. I do have so many questions, I do ask them, and I go online to find answers, or find people who know people who have answers. Like I wrote earlier in a journal entry I think railroading is the only thing in my life that hasn’t become boring. The broad array of people I keep meeting and things I keep learning just spurs me on to learn more and meet more. I figure if I meet enough people someday I’ll get all my questions answered. And take a lot of teasing, and make a whole lot of cool friends, too. Perhaps I’ve made another one? Two days ago a conductor on my Face book page got a comment from someone who was sitting in the yard office waiting for his train. Okay, either a dedicated passenger, but not in a yard, or a railroad crewmember wrote that, I thought, so I clicked on his name and learned he is a Union pacific engineer in Texas. He is married and busy, like all of my engineers. I messaged him and said he didn’t know me, but I liked to talk to rr crews and I know the conductor and could you add me, please? He must have thought I was funny putting happy faces in my messages, practically begging. Five minutes later we were friends and so now I have a locomotive engineer on my Face book page. Someone might say oh he might have made that up, but I don’t think so. Looks legit and he messaged me and said he worked for Union pacific. I knew that from the page, I said. So now I have a live Union pacific engineer, in cyber space, anyway. Union pacific was the first railroad I did research on after Chatsworth. This was the train that hit the Metrolink train, the engineer whose name I finally learnd from a retired conductor I had gone to church with back in the 1970s and never knew. The world is small. So here we are back at Union pacific where it kind of all started. I have two conductors, one retired, one working, and an engineer on my Face book page. My face to face engineers don’t seem to be socially connected in cyberspace, but here we are, and so the big question is where do we go from here? It’s not just a job, says my FB engineer, it’s an adventure. I’ll say! I’ll take that, too. But tonight is not about academia so much. It’s about getting away from my second job, breathing in semi fresh air, a southern California kind of day, no clouds in the sky, or the white puffy ones, warm temperatures reminiscent of spring, and pleasant breezes. Today it’s all about just being with trains, reenergizing, revitalizing. The station has its groups, the energetic fans, the ones sitting on the patio just enjoying the lazy days, kids that frolic along the platform, hopefully being watched by their parents and onlookers, people who hang around the station for all their own reasons. This afternoon as I step off bus 26 having spent my morning in Fullerton, I am very much looking forward to the lazy afternoon and perhaps more active evening. I can’t remember the last time I spent a day here. It would have been two years ago, either when I was on vacation my second year of working for Disney, or perhaps when Andy the Metrolink agent was roaming the place cleaning graffiti from the machines and helping passengers make their next connections, oh ,yeah, an teasing me about talking to Glenn. I can still really only make two trains, 606 and 608, and the freights that come through here, all my window shopping my style, I guess. There are few freights today, Dave says between now and mid March things slow in the freight department, traffic is down from the Port of Los Angeles by twenty-five percent, he says. I’m not sure where he gets this number. It seems to contradict some other number that says freight traffic will double by the end of 2012. Well, 2012 certainly isn’t over yet, but things are quiet, and if it’s a cyclical kind of quiet, I understand that. Disney is quiet this month at least in our department. I’ve taken time off this week, shortened shifts by one hour two days and called out on Sunday to get work done on my various projects. We have been offered time off and I’ve taken advantage of that as much as I can without losing a pay check. Believe me, I’ll be right there when they’re handing out hours. I’m looking forward to over time this year, looking forward to taking care of more of my bills. Slowly but surely they are getting taken care of; I am happy about that. But today it’s about two or three freights, it’s about just hanging with trains, keeping myself awake, though I do fall asleep sitting by track one on one of the low brick walls lining up to the higher one. Napping between trains feels like a vacation. I spend three hours on this side of paradise, not particularly trying to make new crew contacts today. It’s kind of difficult on this side, chain link fencing now sits at the top of the ramp signaling the end of the platform. There is construction that is going on here now, the building of what looks to be a covered walkway from the new parking structure to the platform as it now exists. This platform sits right on the spot where Union pacific loaded its freight back when UP came through here, the Spaghetti Factory its depot. Santa Fe used part of the property for its depot and Union pacific the other. I don’t know all the particulars on this, it’s another research project. But this is where I sit for three hours of the day, just enjoying the silence, the trains, and later on dinner at the Spaghetti Factory. It’s here that I plan scenes from a story that I’m trying to write, or at least let my mind wander uninstructed, perhaps gleaning ideas from its own wanderings. Here is where I imagine things; I’ve always been a dreamer, a day dreamer, too, I’m told. I’m the one who never paid attention to sermons at least while they were being given; lectures were quickly forgotten unless I was paying attention with a pen and paper. Maybe this is why I was good at tuning out my mom when she lectured me about something. Today I just sit here, imagining my own world; imagining my next engineer contact? Those always just happen and I can’t really make those up. I never quite believe them. Funny I’m trying to imagine how my current character, Brett, meets Laurie, in my Brett McCarley stories. I can’t quite imagine how they meet, they just do; kind of like I meet mine, by accident, some planning, and maybe a stroke of luck or genius. I know how I met the first engineer that gave me a railroad education; I could have never made that up. He still talks to me. But you know that, too. Despite his complicated life, or maybe because of it, he talks to me when he can. It’s what I like about these guys: they’re off working, being with their families, or whatever, they aren’t sitting around twiddling their thumbs, just waiting for me to call or message them. Hardly! They get to me when they can. I’ll take that, too. “I didn’t see you,” bobby on 608 tells me when I meet him across the tracks for the 7:04 meet. “I was blocked by the chain link fencing,” I tell him. He seems surprised. Didn’t he notice the fence? The fence as it stands now rests just beyond the middle of the cab car, so the train operator is in front of the fence. I would have to jump the wall and go around the fence to get to the train, but it’s okay, that fence is there for a reason and at least I know I could do it. Train 689 pulls in after bobby’s train, 609, back on the north side, and it wakes me. This is the newest contact I try to make but haven’t done it yet. Maybe he doesn’t see me? Maybe not. Years ago Larry said I had to get their attention. I’ve gotten it a few times, I’d say. But I don’t get here often enough to consistently try and get this one’s attention. It’s easier to make connections with the passenger engineers because if the freights are sitting on track 2 there’s no way we’re getting over there, crossing the railroad tracks is frowned upon here due to other trains using them, of course. And if they are on track 1 or 3 you have to be there to get them right away. Sometimes their lights aren’t on inside the cabs or sometimes they’re not paying attention. That’s fine, too. Sometimes we get lucky especially if they’re holding for a long time which happens when there’s a fatality somewhere down the line. This is why I am going to Montana, I want to make contact out of the cabs, it will be easier that way. But that is for another entry. The lazy afternoon is preceded by a full morning, going to the bank, paying off a loan, having breakfast at Del Taco. I sit and wait as my manicurist does my short nails with my usual red polish. By the time I get to the station the only thing left on my list is to make a few phone calls. One of these calls is to Janice, the woman who first showed me where Glenn was in the cab since I couldn’t see him behind the glass. This was in the days when I didn’t know quite where to find that mysterious person up there, but we found him and I got him. I wouldn’t say making contact with the rest of these guys is easy, only when they’re out of the cab, and I’ll tell you about that, later. My first call today sitting by the tracks is to Janice who it turns out has had surgery for bladder cancer. They say they’ve gotten all of it; she’s resting at home. I text this to Norm our former BNSF engineer who says two weeks ago that he hasn’t heard from either bob or Janice. Remember Bob is the one I have dubbed the ring leader. He sits quietly now in his walker after his stroke, he’s the one who tells me years ago the conductor runs the train and if I want to meet an engineer I need to go to the engine. He was right about one thing in my mind. Anyway, he sits quietly now, but that doesn’t mean he’s not paying attention. He sits just observing and today he answers the phone and lets me talk to his wife. She sounds a little drugged out, she says they have to remove staples on Friday, but now I know that she’s home and hasn’t been to the station for a while. “The last time I saw you was when Mo died,” I say to her. “no I saw you after that.” She jogs my memory, it was the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I tell her to let me know when she’ll be back, that I’m working two jobs and that I’ll let her go so she can rest. The place sure is quiet without her. She is a social force there, bringing people together. She brought me my first engineer though I think that would have happened on its own because we were both consistently there. I would have figured it out eventually but Janice was the catalyst, as she likes to say, it was her fault. Speaking to Janice is one thing people don’t seem to have done so I gather concrete information. As of yet I haven’t had a chance to pass it along, but I will. And hopefully we’ll see her before long. We’re always hoping. Another call goes out to Glenn in which I tell him I read a story that the union workers in Ontario blocked the shipment of an EMD locomotive to Brazil. It was being moved to be painted, I say as the gentle breeze caresses my love struck person and the tracks stretch out. An Amtrak interrupts my call; they do that around here. I wait patiently. It moves away. I briefly consider going to Chatsworth today to see if I can find Chris and get caught up on things over there, but the money is a little more than I want to spend today. This train now interrupting my call would have been the one I would have boarded. But I sit here, talking, instead. So, I tell him, have a good trip and I’m sure you don’t need me to keep you up on railroad news. I just thought that was an interesting story an I thought you might want to hear it. Hey I got him to take a vacation didn’t I? I’ll have to see how he enjoyed that trip. The other calls have to do with taking care of bills and rescheduling jury service. I consider it to have been a very productive day sitting on the platform by the railroad tracks. I love my railroad crews and my trains, even if I don’t like railroad tracks. I don’t mind what’s on the tracks, I just don’t like tracks themselves. If the crew would have crossed the tracks a month ago when we went to dinner I would have gone with them, but I wouldn’t have liked it. This brings me to the other adventure of the day, one that harks back to that meeting on January 6, and holds future promise. After eating a rather large meal of olive tapenada, tortellini with clam sauce, salad, ice-cream, bread, and iced tea, I make my way to the south side of paradise. An old friend hails me from the south side and I explain that I’ll be there in a minute, that I’m going to that side to meet Carey on 606. but I never meet Carey that night. Rosalind is here, the woman who intercepted me on Glenn’s last day on the 91 line and may have saved me from dissolving into utter despair over the loss of one engineer, even though I never lost him. Well, not to worry, Rosalind kept me sane and tonight she is here waiting for 606. We catch up and Carey pulls in but I’m too late. I just wave and smile and watch as my number 2 engineer pulls out, ringing my favorite bell, it is an EMD tonight, thank God. EMD is going to save my day, today and help me meet my next engineer. As 606 pulls away making its running brake test, I walk down to the edge of the platform and turn back to intercept track 4. Walking down to the end I take my place on the bench, my black rr grip with me. This is my sixteen hour bag, my friend, the bag of my dreams, if I ever dream about them. “You could put a small child in there,” says a woman in line at the restaurant. “Oh I get teased a lot about this bag,” I say and we go off to enjoy the meal. Now it sits here as 642 pulls in. I am heartened. It is an EMD! I think it is. Usually the MPI is the locomotive of choice for this set, but I much prefer it this way. I listen; it does it’s little squeak. It pulls further to my right, Eddie opens the door and puts down the ramp. Okay, I’ve missed my chance, I think, but at least it was an EMD. I get up and make my way back toward the other end of the train. Jingling keys get my attention. It’s not the conductor, he would have been teasing me by now, unless he’s off, for some reason. No, it’s definitely not the conductor. “Do you need help, ma’m?:” I turn around here he stands this mysterious person, waiting for my answer. “No, I just came over to see what the engine was,” I say. “It was an EMD right?” “Yes,” he says. The number is 870 and I am happy; I was right! “I’m Shelley and you might see me a lot.” We shake hands, not anything as dramatic as the same action with Glenn. This guy is young, web behind the ears, a baby, a former conductor of this train, he says. All my engineers lack Glenn’s energy; that doesn’t mean they’re not interesting or energetic, they’re just not like Glenn. I set the bar high. I haven’t been here since last Friday when Eddie told me I was swimming with sharks. I stand there, time for honesty. “I like to come meet the engineers; talk to the crews. You must be the engineer you’re not teasing me,” I say. “Engineer in training.” His name is Marvin, Pat is the regular engineer, though I haven’t met him yet. So if this one lasts, there’s two in one stroke, at least two names I know. Wonder how many of these guys I’ll see in Montana? I know they all have their own story. “Marvin has an attitude,” says my experienced engineer on 608. All my engineers telling on each other. Remember third grade? All my engineers; all my kids. “It will get worked out of him quick,” I say, but I’m not sure if bobby hears me. All I know is that when I get back, Marvin will probably be somewhere else. I’ll have to meet the guy that used to have this job before James took it and lost it again, going off to San Bernardino or River Side. I haven’t heard where he is; I’ve left a couple of messages, one of which may surprise him. As I walk back after shaking hands with Marvin and saying enjoy your dinner, no, this time I don’t’ ask to come along, I encounter Eddie. “Are you lost?” he asks me. “no,” I tell him. He knows I’m not lost. He’s going window shopping. It seems the little restaurant that we visited a month ago is closed. I inform James by voicemail that Eddie went to eat there and the entire market and restaurant was closed. So, remember your last meal with fondness, I tell James. I wrote it down in my journal. An now, you know it, too. The place where I met this engineer and the three of us talked trains, people and food no longer exists. I wonder if it will open as a new place? Curt tells me that the crew seems to go to NYPD Pizza so I’ll have to go there and see if I can catch them. I’ve known about NYPD Pizza for a while, maybe it will be my next adventure. My FB engineer was right. It’s not just a job, it is an adventure! The evening ends with me sitting with Dave who calls me the lady of the Redoxx. It is chilly, we see a few freights, and John and Suzy drop by for a moment. Curt comes by and finally after three attempts, I decide to take the American Red Cross blanket. These blankets are given out each time a giveaway comes to the station. Okay, I think, I’ll take it for the cats. But it ends up in the railroad grip and stays there. Who knows. It may come in handy some day. Scooping up my bag and my memories I make my way out to the parking lot where Curt has caught a cab for me. It has been a good day up here, as Glenn would say. Yes, indeed. Back in a strange kind of way to the Union pacific, sleepy freights, the last meal, the engineer in training and just hanging with trains. It doesn’t get much better than this; butI bet it will.
Copyright © 2012 Shelley J Alongi |