Train Travel, Riding the Rails Autistic

 I should mention that in addition to being Autistic I have Multiple Personality Disorder/ Dissociative Identity Disorder. I had no knowledge that other parts of me had already written some about our train journey.

Train- a series of railroad cars moved as a unit by a locomotive or by integral motors.

Riding the train Autistic

I have always been intrigued by the large, lumbering movements and the brilliant, ear-shrieking horns of moving trains. The solid clanking of the wheels, metal-on-metal. The powerful bursts from the heavy-duty engines and the loud roaring all combine to make trains a fascination.

Recently, I found myself brave enough to actually take a long, 3-hour ride on an Amtrak passenger train from Albany Oregon to Centralia Washington. I wanted to find the route that would give me the greatest amount of rail time whilst still getting me back home in the same day. I had tried using the online scheduler to figure out which train to take but my Aspie sense of misdirection and no tech skills landed me nowhere. I had to inquire in-person at the train station. Having never been to the train station, I was fraught with anxiety and spent hours figuring out the predetermined the questions that I needed to ask to fulfill my objective.

I arrived and the station and found myself most fortunate to locate a train station worker that was both pleasant and helpful. She stated that my longest route would be from Albany to Centralia with a 5 hour layover before taking the return train back. This would work! The price was fairly reasonable at 30 dollars each way, so I booked my ticket for the following Tuesday. I was to arrive at the station before 6am to board.

Then I spent the following days determining what to bring with me. I knew I should travel light, so I had to find which items were essential and which were not. My greatest difficulty was in determining what to wear. The temperatures would be in the 50’s and 60’s in the morning but by afternoon, they would travel into the 70’s. I needed a heavy coat for morning but I’d have to be able to wear something cooler in the afternoon and for the return trip. I did not know the internal temperature of the train. Would it be too warm or on the cool side? That was a huge unknown variable that I needed to wrestle with. I went back-and-forth weighing different options and checking the weather forecast online. Finally, I settled on wearing a light-weight sweatshirt with a T-shirt underneath, so that if I was too hot I could simply remove the sweatshirt. I did utilize wearing of my heavy coat just for the comfort and the feeling of security it offered as I was to venture off into hostile, unknown territory. The coat was of a size that it could fit into the backpack if no longer needed.

I only eat snacks and foods that I have prepared myself, so I made sure to bake biscuits and cornbread to partake of. Two bottles of water and two pops were the only other things that I packed foodwise. Maps of Oregon and Washington along with notebook and pens filled out all that was needed. My bag was packed. I teetered between anxiety and excitement in the days proceeding the journey. I knew this was a huge step for me, such a solo journey so far from home and from my trusty car. I would be on my own completely.

The morning of my adventure arrived. I scurried to the station, backpack and ticket in hand. It was a peaceful anxiety I felt, sitting on the bench at the platform watching an unusual site, the sun rising slowly bright yellow and spreading wide across the sky. I was actually less nervous than I would have guessed I would be. Seeing the other passengers reminded me that I was probably at the right place at the right time.

The distant blare of a slow sleepy horn called my attention to the rails. There she be. My train! People started lining up. I figured with just a handful of people that it didn’t matter if I was the first or last to board. Plus, I wasn’t sure of the boarding procedure, so I stood back and observed the other passengers boarding. No one showed their ticket yet all were welcome onboard. I found this quite strange. I had no ide of what the interior of the train would look like or where the best seating would be. I noticed the seats nearest the doors were marked for the handicapped and disabled. That would work for me. No sooner did I take my seat and the train started the slow roll out from the station.

It was an interesting and exciting feel, suddenly being a part of a train in motion. I had observed many a train speeding by at crosswalks and roadways, but I wasn’t a spectator anymore. I was a participant! Here is me. On a moving train. Going on a grand adventure.

A number of things struck me within those first few minutes. One, I was happy to see the train conductors wearing uniforms. That was very cool. Two, the windows to look out were extremely filthy. For a moment this gave me pause. It is more difficult to see beauty through a dirty lens. I glanced around to see if any other windows were in better condition. No luck. Okay, I’d have to deal with that. Try and ignore the grime. One of the early items that surprised and perplexed me was that there was no assigned seating. It was some sort of erratic “first come, first served” where people sat wherever they wanted so those boarding first had first pick. At that point, I had no idea what side of the train had the best view and no idea which seats offered the best views. My primary motive to the train travel was to see the scenery, so the windows and seating were a priority.

Third, the conductor still did not check my ticket for another ten or fifteen minutes. Don’t people ever “hop the train” like hobos and ride ticket free until they get caught? Yeah, I’m a boomer. I remember talk of hobos and tramps that would hop rides on open boxcars. But I digress.

The fourth biggest immediate notice was that the train did not move as fast as I thought it would. I imagined that it would reach high speeds and zip along the countryside. Ah, no. It was traveling at about the same speed as a car on the freeway, no faster. I found this disappointing as well.

As the train moved along and peoples got up to go to the dining car or the restroom, I was dismayed to notice that there is no set personal space as walking passengers and train personnel can and frequently have to grab onto the top of the seats to keep steady and not fall down. This was concerning. My seat was my seat yet others had free reign to touch it if need be. There were even signs posted saying use the handholds and these are the appropriate handholds and one of them was the tops of seats. Well, I’d have to learn to be okay with that, too.

When I fly in airplanes, it always bothers me that I cannot view what is directly in front of me. The train was the same. I wanted to look straight ahead to see what I was headed into but that was not possible. I had to trust invisible engineers and invisible pilots to safely get me from point A to point B.

Trains are noisy from multiple directions, again it reminded me of airplane travel in that way. There is the loudest noise from the engines and the wheels on the track. Air ventilation could be heard directly near the window, blowers I imagine. The new weird sound was the train couplings, the place where one train car was hooked up to the next. That made an interesting and sometimes concerning sound which was much louder if someone had the car door open and was moving from one car to the other.

The train car shimmies from side-to-side which an airplane does not. The motions, the whole body physical motions were not as smooth as with airplane travel. Airplanes are pretty straight forward except for turbulence. Trains shimmy and move in erratic multi-directions. The sounds, sometimes it sounded like the parts of a train were fighting with themselves. You know, one passenger car struggling and pulling against the one in front and the one behind. The engine straining to try and get all the cars in alignment. The wheels, the huge, heavy metal wheels grinding into the darn rails sometimes easily but mostly aggressively. A few times, the tracks just seemed to be arguing and fighting with the train wheels.

It's like airplanes are smooth and slick whereas trains are struggling and shimmying.

The positive about so much noise from varying angles is that it drowned out any passenger conversation. I liked that.

Some of the primary positives I noticed right away: One, the seats were huge, soft, and comfortable. There was more than enough leg room and space to put my backpack in front of me. Plus, the seats were wide and not tight and stingy. Great seating! Two, there were very few passengers so that everyone could have a window seat and an empty seat next to them. As the train progressed northward, it was unfortunate that more and more people boarded.

Three, there is a good amount of personal space and others pretty much leave you alone. I could safely withdraw into my own little world and enjoy the scenery without fear of intrusion. It was a new and fantastic feeling to be able to kick back, comfy and cozy and just see the sights without worrying about driving or traffic. In that way, it was most relaxing, a relief. In an airplane, it is all close quarters and possible intrusions from other passengers and stewardesses. The train affords an almost luxurious way to travel, in many ways.

The ride to my destination was a mixed bag of mostly positives. The train ride back proved to be more arduous.

As I write this, I hear a freight train horn in the distance. One of the oddities of my train trip was that since my return, whenever I hear a train whistle, I get this weird, warm feeling inside and I’m reminded of being on the train. It is a new and pleasant memory that is triggered each day. Unexpected. Is a good thing, a positive feeling of pride, accomplishment, fun and adventure.

Back to the return journey. The train engine itself was smaller in appearance and most unfortunately, all of the seats already had a passenger at the window. I picked a seat near my previous one. I asked the passenger if she would mind change seats with me as she was reading a book. She declined. I started melting down. Luckily, I had a mask on so I heard myself start mumbling and repeating certain phrases over and over and over again. I started to cry. I was so upset. I ride the train for the window and this evil woman wouldn’t let me by the window.

Shortly thereafter, I moved to the front disabled seating next to a clear undisabled business woman busy conferencing on her phone. I could see out the window better from that seat. It was such a blow, a negative, a downfall, that I hadn’t foreseen. No window seat for Autistic me. So, I mildly melted and realized that to prevent a full-blown melt that I should partake of my anti-anxiety meds. Half a pill and half an hour later, I was still mad but on an even keel. The meltdown receded.

I contemplated asking the conductor to tell him I was Autistic and required a window seat for my emotional wellbeing which was 100% true but I didn’t want to feel like a simp. I didn’t know if it truly was justification to kindly ask a non-disabled person to change seats for a disabled person. There were signs posted specifically stating that if you are not disabled you may be asked to move for a disabled person. A window seat would have prevented a meltdown. Would that have been appropriate and justified? In addition, I shot down that idea when I realized that I would have been unable to ask the conductor my question without full blown tears. The tears stopped me from receiving possible assistance. I don’t know what the right thing would have been. I’ll have to find answers to that in case I am in that situation again.

The ride home was overstim. I was tired and had been up since 5am. I had walked in the heat of a strange city for five hours and endured a four-hour train ride to get there. I was purely overwhelmed. Everything seemed louder and more intense. The train shook, shimmied and vibrated louder and more abruptly than before. I almost came down with motion sickness due to the stronger, being thrown around feeling of wheels on rails. Maybe it was the different engine or the car I was riding in but I was highly nauseous and feeling quite unwell.

Many little things bothered me on that ride. First off, I noticed that when the train drew close to outside stationary objects like trees, buildings or cliffs, I recoiled and freaked out a little bit on the inside. And when an opposing train passed by within arms length of my window, I recoiled, shut my eyes tight and moved the farthest I could away from the window while maintaining my seated position. I did not like that at all. Likewise, the one brief tunnel we traveled through seriously bothered me ten times as much as the first time we had passed through it.

I was on edge and I could feel it. I reached into my backpack for my ear plugs. When I inserted them, I felt instant overwhelming relief. They were like spongy little tranquilizers in my ears. They calmed me so. Reminds me of rocking a baby to sleep. That is how good ear plugs felt. Life savers. The incessant roar of the train drowned out and I calmed way, way, way down.

I started feeling ambivalent about my return to my home station. Part of me wanted off the train and away from the intense swaying and vibration whilst part of me wanted to ride the train forever and never set foot on dry land again. (Another subtle attempt at humor as I was always on land.)

Looking back, I was both saddened, proud, and relieved to exit the train. I had accomplished a feat that I had oft wondered about and long sought to experience. Part of me was still sulking about the return trip being ruined by no window seat for the entire way back. I was emotionally, physically and mentally overwhelmed. That day I summarized the train trip as strange and a mixture of positives and negatives. It was only a week a week later, when I had time to process parts of the trip that I realized I want to ride the train again.

I want to go on the same trip again but this time with knowledge and foresight. I will pack differently and know where to sit. I want to experience actually walking in a moving train, check out the dining car and see if I can actually walk from car to car. It will be the same route but I am such a different, more knowledgeable rider.

Riding the rails Autistic!