Tag Archives: train

Officer Matt

No matter where I travel, I always seem to return home with a story or two. Some have been quite interesting. Others downright show-stoppers. Last August’s girl trip had its moments as well. At first, we almost cancelled the whole shebang, because I am adamant about staying downtown near the Magnificent Mile. Because we dawdled a little too long, I wasn’t finding a hotel room for under $400. I love my girls, but that price was way over what I wanted to spend for a night’s lodging. I am in no way getting paid for this, but at the very last minute, I searched www.booking.com and (Shazam!) found a room for around a hundred dollars only a couple blocks from the American Girl store (which I failed to mention yesterday had moved locations since the last girls’ trip). I would be lying if I said I didn’t prance around the house saying, “Booking dot Yeah!” for a few hours.

When we arrived at the very upscale hotel, the concierge explained that if it was okay, we would be staying next door at their sister property. My elation at a good deal felt like the rug was just pulled out from under us. I am nothing if not a seasoned adventurer (Trust me people, I have slept in my van – not down by the river however – with three dogs while travelling back from North Dakota because there was no room in the inn for my four-legged buddies). My friends hate that I do that, but at least, I’m not like my one friend who used to camp out in cemeteries while bicycling across the country. I had no choice other than to agree to the relocation and hope for the best. The property really seemed more like an apartment building, but as long as we had a bed and bathroom we would be fine. We opened the door and nearly fell over laughing. We walked right into a one-bedroom townhouse complete with living room, dining room, kitchen, more closets than we could count, office, and lofted bedroom. We’re no dummies, and we thought we might be guests at the Roach Motel, but instead ended up feeling like we were real Chicagoans.

Union Depot, St. Paul, MN

Union Depot, St. Paul, MN

As unexpected as the accommodations were, my favorite travelling story happened before we even left the station back in St. Paul. Due to the oil boom in North Dakota, the Empire Builder is now historically late. In fact, we had been notified that we might be placed on a charter bus (which has happened to me before) to get to Chicago. Since we had a sleeper car and were not connecting with another train, we were part of the group that was left to wait for the train. The delay was only a couple hours; so, we did the best to occupy our time while waiting.

Sally and Kit can hardly wait for the train to arrive.

Sally and Kit can hardly wait for the train to arrive.

 

But we wait we did!

But we wait we did!

Eventually, the station master signaled the call for all travelers to line up for the platform.

Gate C to Chicago!

Gate C to Chicago!

After making it through the ticket gate, we descended the long escalator from the station to our assigned location. When you travel with little ones, you rarely get anywhere quickly. At the bottom was a smiling station security officer. As we were heading to our area, I heard a voice behind me.

Almost there!

Almost there!

Miss. Excuse me Miss. Do you have your ticket?

Sally and I both stopped and turned around, thinking the officer thought we were perhaps trying to sneak our way onto the VIP section of the train. I grabbed my boarding passes to show him.

No, I’m sorry, ma’am. I am speaking to this little girl here. Miss, does your friend (pointing to Kit, the doll Santa had given her a few years earlier) have her ticket?

A quick glance up at me told me she was asking if this guy was for real. Her glance was met with a shoulder shrug on my part.

Is he for real?

Is he for real?

Um. That would be tiny little ticket, wouldn’t it sir?

Indeed, it would be. Where are you two girls heading?

Chicago. We are going to the American Girl Doll Store.

Well, I see. This seems to be a pretty big occasion. I will trust that you have your papers in order, but that is such a tiny little suitcase for your friend. Do you think she has enough clothes packed for such a big day?

Well, we are only going to be there for two days. I packed her pajamas and a special dress for when we get to eat at the fancy restaurant.

Do you think you might need to buy her an outfit while you are there?

That was kind of the plan.

Okay, well that sounds good. Has your friend ever been to Chicago?

No sir, but I have once. I was a toddler, but this is a trip that my momma does with each girl in our family. Now it is my turn.

I would have to say that is about the most wonderful plan I’ve ever heard.

A loud whistle told us all the train was coming into the station. I quickly made sure that Clo (who still struggles to hear things approaching from behind) was far from the edge of the platform as we waited for Engine 27 to pull in. While we stood back, I spoke quickly to the officer.

Can I ask you your name? Officer Matt. Officer Matt, you just made my little girl’s day. Thank you! You’re welcome. I have a little girl about her age, and I think of my daughter whenever I see a little girl standing on this platform. I try to go out of my way to brighten her day, hoping somebody is doing the same for my little girl. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you!

It was all the conversation we could squeeze in, as the train was trying to make up time, and we needed to board quickly. When we returned home, I called the station and the security company and gave a glowing report of the magic of Officer Matt. The dispatcher was bawling when I got done with my story. She said that most of the calls they receive are complaints, but that no one ever takes the time to say thank you. It touched her so much that she decided to do the same and nominate Officer Matt for a commendation. Then it was me who was choking up on the phone.

That conversation on the platform probably took all of five minutes, but it left a mark on me and my mini-me which rippled out to the staff of an entire train station. The world needs a few more Officer Matt’s who aren’t afraid to use their hearts and their imaginations to brighten someone’s day!

Riding the rails

After returning from Kentucky, one of my friends asked, “How was your trip?”.  I told her about the amazing trip God had planned for me.  I spoke about being awed and exhausted and about how the trip home was definitely an adventure.  She looked me square in the eye and said, “Traveling with you is ALWAYS an adventure.”

To say the station was packed was an understatement.  I have traveled the railways as far back as I can remember, and I knew from the looks of things we were going to have a full train.  I had really hoped to get a last minute sleeper car, because we were boarding at one in the morning.  However, I had no luck on that one.

railroad

After loading all the families and couples, only us single passengers remained.  There were four of us in a line – a college kid, an older woman, and elderly gentleman, and me.  Onboard, the lady was struggling to get her bags on the overhead storage rack, and the student helped her.  The older gentleman made a few loud, cantankerous remarks about wanting to sit down, and that was when it hit me.  He was holding the ticket to the seat next to mine!  Oh dear!

The other three were all seated while I stored my items above.  Like the roaring of a lion, his voice startled me.  “Well, at least, I get to ride next the prettiest girl in this car.”  A sheepish, flattered grin crossed my lips as my thoughts raced to, “Here we go” and “Who I am to argue with a septuagenarian?”!

Within the first five minutes, I knew this was going to be one interesting journey.  His response to my offer to place his portable oxygen tank above was met with, “I shot myself in the foot”. I am certain I had a look of horror in the dim light of the coach car.  A quick smile, followed a few seconds later with an honest assessment of “years of smoking”. Then he shared his whole life story – Korean War Veteran, married and divorced (twice), father of three, railroad worker for 43 years, and drummer in big bands his adult life.

Humbled, I shook hands with Mr. Jimmy S and thanked him for his service.   

Slowly the Cardinal (how fitting) rattled and rumbled as we headed on down the tracks to our ultimate destination  – Union Station: Chicago.  Any hopes of sleep were dashed as this old railroad man told me all about the intricacies of rail signals, troubles on the tracks, and engineers signaling off.  Mr. Jimmy  had me in giggles telling about his gigs over the years in the bands.  Quickly, I learned he lived a colorful life.  I discovered that we were both to be passengers on the Empire Builder later that day.  Eventually, exhaustion overtook me, and I fell asleep.

I rose to discover he was still awake and enjoying the ride.  He asked if I would accompany him to breakfast at the station because I had been a willing listener to all his old tales.  I accepted the offer on one condition: He must allow me to help him maneuver around the station.  It was a deal!

In Chicago, it became clear that Jimmy’s COPD was worse than I knew, and that walking was a challenge for him.  I learned these things because the redcap was not waiting for us on the platform as had been previously arranged.

Slowly, and I mean very slowly, we walked the entire way, pausing many times along the way, from the rail car to the VIP lounge.  I dropped him off with the promise I would come back as soon as I secured a sleeping car for the next train.

No sleepers were available, and I didn’t have the golden ticket of entrance to the VIP lounge.  I entered once and was turned back similar to the scene in “Titantic” where the passengers want to get out of steerage.  About twenty minutes later, I tried again.  I explained the situation which was exactly what I knew to be true and holy.  This man was from a different generation – where you didn’t leave a man (or female traveler) behind. 

I asked if they could page him so I could explain that I wouldn’t be able to travel or wait with him.  The desk clerk begrudgingly obliged.

Paging Mr. Jimmy S

Nothing

Mr. Jimmy S, please meet your party at the VIP lounge door.

Nothing

At this point, the agent began to question my integrity just as a gentle hand was placed on my shoulder.

Exasperated: Where have you been?

Looking for you.  I was worried.

Relief flooded every fiber of my being.  Somehow God put me with this older man to look out for him, and I knew it.

Then began the conversation I dreaded.

Did you get your ticket?

No, there weren’t any sleeper cars available; so I cannot stay here with you.

Well, why not?

Because this lounge is for first class passengers in sleeping cars.  I don’t have a sleeper; so I cannot wait in here with you.  I will be fine.  You stay here.  There are food, drinks, nicer chairs, television, and the newspaper.

I will not!  I want to stay where you are.  How far is it?

It’s not far, but that is beside the point.  This is where you should be.  You will be more comfortable here.  I will be fine.

No! I am going where you are!

Jimmy, I really feel like you should stay here.  Please just stay in this lounge.  It’s so much nicer, and you will be well taken care of.

I’m coming with you.

At this point the VIP lounge agent chimes in. Ma’am give me your ticket.  Do you have any problems riding in a sleeper car with this gentleman?

Um . . . no. (Knowing full well, I would be getting off the train before bedtime.)

Sir, do you have any concerns of this young lady riding with you in your sleeper car? 

Not at all.

Ma’am, I am giving you a free ticket upgrade. Enjoy dinner on us. 

You sir are a scholar and a gentleman.

What just happened here? This does NOT happen to my friends!

We went out for breakfast, and then waited the five hours until our train arrived for parts westward.  Of course, our waiting time was not restful, as more stories were shared.  During our wait my phone died; so, I wasn’t able to call or text home to explain what was going at the train station.

Finally, the time came for boarding.  This time, however, I insisted that the train company provided Mr. Jimmy a redcap.  We were driven basically from our lounge seats right up to our sleeper car.  Whew!

After a quick recharge, I sent a text to my husband to tell him, “ALL WELL.  SHARING A SLEEPER CAR WITH A GENTLEMAN.”

His response said it all, “What?  I am nervous.”

I explained that he was a 70+ year old Korean War Veteran with COPD.  I could outrun him. Trust me. God & I got this.

I don’t think he was convinced.

We rode for five hours, and again with no rest.  This time, I learned much more about his time in the war.  I almost lost it, when he teared up telling of an ill-fated night flying mission.  He was a flight gunner, and one simple mistake (not his) caused the loss of two whole planes and their entire crews.  He was on the only plane that safely made it back that night.

Finally, we were called for our dinner reservations. The jaunt to the dining car was a  journey in and of itself because our sleeper was eight cars away.  We had to pause twice in each car, just so he could catch his breath.  My heart was breaking because I would be getting off in an hour, but Mr. Jimmy would be traveling all the way to Idaho, arriving sometime late the next evening.  Who would take care of him?

At dinner, despite my protestations of being full, I was ordered dessert whether I wanted it or not.  This was a proper meal, and dessert must be ordered.  Stuffed to the gills, we made it back to sleeper as the engineer announced that the next stop was Red Wing.

I reminded Mr. Jimmy this was my stop and that we would be parting ways.  I needed to gather my things and get to the door platform.  I shook his hand and said, “Thank you for traveling with me today.”

I thought that was the end of our time.  I should have known better.  The ride into Red Wing is a little slower due to construction on the bridge there.  As I stood on the platform with the porter, I sensed a third presence.  Yep, there was Mr. Jimmy unsteadily waiting to make sure I safely got off the train.  In his words, no gentleman would allow a beautiful young lady to travel alone.  It was his duty to make sure I arrived safely.

When the train stopped, I showed him where my car was parked, and with a quick hug and a peck on a stubbly cheek, I disembarked with strict instructions to the porter to take care of my friend.

Walking exhaustedly down the brick platform, I begged God to not give me any more little old men for a while.

God obliged . . . for about a hundred feet.

There at the station, disembarking from another car, was a little old man who couldn’t get his walker over the tracks without it getting stuck.

I sighed, then threw down my bags and got him safely across.  On my final drive home, I thanked God for the time spent with one heck of a gentleman from a great generation.

So Mr. Jimmy S – Thank you for your service and for spending time with a girl on a train.