I was supposed to return to New York this afternoon on an Acela, after a lovely long weekend at niece Emily’s in Salem, Mass. Her husband drove me to South Station in Boston in plenty of time for me to pick up food for dinner on the train. However, when I checked the train board, I saw my 4:15 had the dreaded “Delayed” next to it.
It was now just 4 p.m. I went to the information booth and the young man there knew nothing. “There’s a delay” was the extent of his knowledge. Around 4:20, there was an announcement: no Amtrak trains would be leaving Boston “until at least 8 p.m.
Back to the information desk. A woman in a red-beige-white-black print had more information. It appeared that a tree or some trees had fallen on the track, maybe around Providence, and gotten entangled in the electric wires that power the trains. They had to be cleared out and hopefully that would happen before 8 p.m.
I immediately texted my daughter and my niece, but they were both still at work and didn’t respond.
For the next couple of hours, that announcement was repeated every 15 minutes, conveying no more information. It did, of course, end with the obligatory “We are sorry for the inconvenience.”
Lolita, the woman in the print dress, was more forthcoming. At one point, with four young women and me huddled around her wondering what to do next, she pointed out our options: (1) rent a car from Enterprise because they would deliver the car to the station, (2) walk a block or so away to the bus station and take a bus, (3) get a flight and take the MTA to the airport, or (4) change your ticket for a train tomorrow. Or wait for that illusory train sometime after 8. How long does the station stay open? I asked; until all the trains have left, Lolita assured me.
My niece was the first to call back. Of course, we’ll come get you and you can take a train tomorrow, she said. At the ticket window, my choices were either too early in the morning, or too late. My niece works during the day, her husband at night; their boys are starting school tomorrow. I’m an optimist—there will be a train tonight. I decided to stay at the station.
Around 6:30, a young woman sitting near me pointed out updates on Twitter. Each tweet announced that “due to ongoing power issues” various numbered trains were terminating somewhere or originating somewhere not Boston. When I saw my Acela originating in Kingston, Rhode Island, I went back to the information desk. The young man had no idea who sent that tweet.
However, a tweet that all service between Boston and New Haven was suspended “until further notice” alarmed me. “Until further notice” to me means not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe never. There followed a rather wild period of me rushing back to the info desk, getting encouraging words from one worker, but somewhat more measured comments from Lolita, who was besieged, but being as helpful as she could with the limited information she had. Maybe I should try to change my ticket for tomorrow again? But now the line at the ticket window was long. Had I missed my chance? Just in case, I called my niece, who was just sitting down to dinner, to see if she could come get me.
Outside, I noticed Lolita in more conversation and I thought she might know something more. My daughter called just then and I had to tell her I’d call her when I know something more substantial. Then a new announcement about trains boarding, and my train number was 2173 was among them. Gate 8.
Finally, I was in a line to get on a train. Texting my niece to say, “there is a train.” Getting on the train and finding a seat and calling my daughter to say, “I’m on a train.” I was in the Quiet car, but half the people there were on their phones to report: “we’re on a train!” The conductor gave us some leeway for maybe 10 minutes. We left Boston at 7:35.
Somewhere between Providence and Kingston, we stopped for 20 minutes. We were at the disrupted area, which now had only one track open, and waited for three northbound trains to use that track. And tomorrow I will have to call Amtrak to get the Acela fare I paid reduced since I’m not on an Acela now.
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That's a lot of aggravation. I'm getting too old for that sort of thing, myself.
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