Getting Blasphemous in January

 

Blasphemous published a poem of mine called The Broach Indeed. Scroll down past the Turkish(?) picture to read it.

Scudding Along

 

Two poems of mine are in Scud. The first is based on a sketch by Edward Hopper at the Whitney. The second is based on a picture I took at a beer garden:

Getting Itchy with Poetry

Five Fleas (Itchy poetry) has published two lines by me in their latest issue. It's not much, but that's the point.

Oh, wrong flea

There we go!

Read my lines here. I'm at the top.

Visit France and Croatia

 

...or visit web pages hosted in France and Croatia where poems of mine have just been published. ZVONA i NARI has published two poems from me, and Revue Revolution has work on its English and French sites (photo credit of Christine Stoddard).

Probing Flies in the Sandy River Review

 

Where the magic in "La Mosca" happened

Poems in pairs, ladiex and gentlemxn! Where? At the Sandy River Review. One involves Astronomy, the other Etymology. Read on and...learn? 

A Wafer-Thin Slice of Anxiety

Just a tiny, tiny little bit of anxiety, via a poem I wrote for A Thin Slice of Anxiety

The Worst Monument in DC

In this age of statues coming down their plinths, and places being renamed, calling something the “Worst Monument in DC” brings to mind the usual culprits. However, this monument is not bad because it honors a Confederate, a slaveowner, or somebody who did medical experiments on enslaved women. It is also not problematic like the statues honoring the Emancipation Proclamation. You know the kind: they show a helpless and shirtless Black person in chains being uplifted by a very starch-shirted Abraham Lincoln.

No, this infamous title belongs to a monument because of its aesthetics, not its politics. At least with those other kinds of statues you know what they are supposed to represent. I don’t mean on a deeper level in terms of just dog whistles, but on a surface level as well. A statue of General Robert E. Lee on a horse shows General Robert E. Lee on a horse. You can get offended by it because you know who you are supposed to think of when you look at it. One could argue a monument that’s too abstract might even be worse, because it doesn’t even let you get angry.

One such monument exists in DC. It is little known, though hundreds of thousands of people drive past it every year. Most of them hardly get a glance of it, and even fewer know that it is legally in DC, despite being on the right bank of the Potomac (in case you didn’t know, Columbia Island, that strip of land next to the Pentagon is part of DC). It is near another monument which people might recognize, but it is a hundred times better than this one. That competent monument is the Navy – Merchant Marine Memorial. The bad one? It’s called the Lyndon Baines Johnson Memorial Grove on the Potomac.

A monument to Idaho

Just the length of the name should tip you off that something isn’t right. A good memorial is succinct and named for one person, group, or event. Think the Lincoln Memorial or the Washington Monument. The Emancipation Memorial is another one, so long as we’re talking names here and not set-up. The Lyndon Baines Johnson Memorial Grove on the Potomac is the opposite of all that. It contains too much, which the same might be said for old LBJ. I doubt that was the intention though. Instead we have a confusing mess that tells us what kind of memorial it is and the river it is on. Off the top of my head I don’t think any other monument in DC has that designation.

It's not the easiest memorial to get to either. You have to drive onto the island, park, and walk a bit until you hit the right grove. But that could be said of plenty of landmarks in the city, and I won’t count that against it. The memorial to Teddy Roosevelt requires quite a hike to the middle of his eponymous island. It doesn’t detract from the way it is set up and the possible educational value of the site. I know it’s not a textbook (what monument is?), but one can at least clearly meditate on and contemplate the subject.

This is not the case with the Lyndon Baines Johnson Memorial Grove on the Potomac. There is little in the design or the artwork chosen that conveys anything about LBJ and his achievements. Approaching the memorial, all one can see through the pine trees is a large hunk of pinkish granite. No, it isn’t a statue of our 36th President, as much of a hunk he was. The granite is simply a large rock, stuck in the ground. A prurient mind might say it’s a memorial to Johnson’s Johnson, the infamous “Jumbo.” How could they know any better? The rock is not shaped, cut, etched, or hewn into anything with a recognizable pattern. It isn’t even a menhir.

Johnson's Johnson, the Jumbo of the Capitol Hill Zoo

The area around the megalith isn’t any more informative or inspiring. There’s a small sign that gives a basic outline of the memorial and its function, along with a recording of Lady Bird Johnson that doesn’t work. When I pressed one of the buttons for it, I hoped that instead I would get to hear LBJ ordering pants from his tailor. It’s more Taylor though, but it doesn’t matter anyway. The device is broken, along with many of the paving stones near the central rock.

Adjacent to it are a handful of slabs of granite, made of the same exact shade as the central stone. On each of them are selections from speeches LBJ gave during his life. None of the selections are particularly memorable or illuminating. They say little about the man himself, his times, or the issues he was championing. I know the man wasn’t the most gifted speaker, but the designers could’ve chosen something more inspiring. He had Bill Moyers to work with. Something he said after JFK was shot perhaps? Or his speeches to Congress on Civil Rights? There’s another issue with the slabs too. They are difficult to read, thanks to using that foreskin-colored granite.

At the right angle, one can get a nice view of the Potomac and the other monuments that dot the skyline of DC. It only serves to remind the unlucky visitor, of how much worse Johnson’s memorial is compared to the ones for Lincoln, Jefferson, and Washington. It makes one wonder if this is actually a site dedicated to Andrew Johnson, and that this is all a sick joke to embarrass our 17th president for botching Reconstruction and buying Alaska.

Not pictured: wasp nests

In the same park is a monument that is much better and more interesting, the Navy – Merchant Marine Memorial. It honors those who have died at sea and rare for a war memorial, it doesn’t show the people lost. No names are etched on it and no human figures are depicted. There are waves and seagulls (along with wasp nests tucked inside the waves, but those are a later addition) made of metal, sitting on a small plinth. They depict the watery resting place of those lost, and remind us that many are gone forever with no recovered remains. It also has bubbles.

Perhaps the Lyndon Baines Johnson Memorial Grove on the Potomac represents the conclusion of the memorial as traditionally understood. Our presidents are too big and contain too many multitudes of contradictions to be reduced to a statue. Constant revision of their legacy and shifts in historical opinion also make it difficult to come to any final consensus about them. In that sense the giant rocks is fitting, as the reputation of LBJ has waxed and waned over the decades. Now it appears to be waxing, in part because we are nostalgic for a time Congress and the President could work together to pass major pieces of legislation. But it will wane again, when we reconsider the costs of Empire.

I Am the Voice of One Crying Out in the Webinar

oddens and ends

Hello to one and all still grinding away under quarantine. I present a poem of mine published in the United Kingdom. It is up at Briefly Write and not only are there words for you to read, there are sounds too! Sounds that I made, which match up to the words on the page as well. Read, listen, and mostly importantly, enjoy.

One of a Kind Poem

But then again, every poem is a one of kind, for the most part. It's in a one of a kind journal, Infection House. The picture above depicts a woman using a stereoscope, which is what inspired the comparison with Victorian Britain mentioned in the poem.

A Poem As It Ought to Be

A poem of mine is in the literary journal As It Ought To Be Magazine. It comes from my time as a paralegal dealing with clients from upstate New York. The name of the poem is "Large Bull Thistle" which is also what the name of Chenango County translates to.

A Minor Festival...

...awaits you over at the Rye Whiskey Review, where my poem Festival Minor was published. There's also a young picture of me back when I called New Jersey home.

Part V: The Final Frontier (So Very, Very Tired)

Wow, I’ve spent so long talking about who I think shouldn’t win and there’s little space to say who should get the nomination. I guess based on what I’ve previously written, you the reader can understand now where I’m coming from and where I hope the party and the country go from here on out. We need a candidate that will deal with the problems we face, rather than seek compromise right after their inaugurated. We need someone who will bring progress rather than a return to Neoliberalism and austerity. America has to end the endless wars abroad, and the War on Drugs at home. There needs to be healthcare for all, education for all, labor rights for all, and reproductive rights for all. The Democratic Party needs to become a working class party in order to remain viable, and a Green New Deal has to be pursued in order for human existence on this planet to be viable too. We need a candidate who will fight and will leave no options off the table. Packing the Court? Declaring a Climate Emergency? Nationalizing industries? They all have to be considered.

We need to make up for lost time folks

We have to be as radical as reality. There are only two candidates in the race who understand this, and have a chance of winning. They have the ability to come down from the Mountain, conquer the Plain, seize the Dais, and crush the gatekeepers along the way. They represent the Only Real Hope Tier, and I wish it was the biggest bench in this contest. But what can you do, other than see them get elected? From a process of deduction, it should be obvious who they are by now:

Elizabeth Warren
Bernie Sanders

Yep. Two. Count them again. It’s a depressing number. I wish there was someone younger, someone of color, and someone more radical who could run, but alas, AOC is too damn young and Ilhan Omar was born abroad. I guess there’s something of a blessing here. The radical vote won’t be split and the it won’t be lost amid a cacophony clamoring for Medicare for All on the debate stage. If Warren or Sanders win, it’ll bring up a whole generation of progressives hopefully into office, and it will drag those in the middle to the Left. Victory leaves a garden in its wake.

Of these two candidates, I rank Sanders higher than Warren. In my dream world, Sanders runs, wins, gets a term, then decided not to run again. Instead, it’s his Vice President Warren who follows him into office. Maybe AOC will come after her. Then again, it might be Subcommandante Lee Carter. I understand the desire for a female president and I don’t believe Warren would have that much harder of a time getting elected than Sanders. She’d be just as electable

So why pick Sanders over her? I think Warren has great ideas and solid proposals. It’s good that she leaves other candidates clamoring behind in her wake, looking for policies of their own. Just as Sanders moved the party left in 2016, Warren is crystallizing the commitments of others. They can no longer wear a label like “progressive.” They have to explain their stances. However, I think there are differences between Sanders and Warren, which make me back him over Warren. Needless to say, I would be fine supporting either of them in the general (Tankies, feel free to call me a dirty, dirty lib in the comments)

The first difference is foreign policy. Sanders is much more anti-imperialist in his orientation. He doesn’t just want a “green” army like Warren. He wants to shrink it and bring it home. His whole life he’s opposed intervention and wars abroad and that’s crucial. People forget that the President’s greatest power is as Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces. Congress and the Courts give the Executive the widest latitude here. Warren is nowhere near as bad as Biden, or the rest of the field. I don’t think she’ll get us into a war with Iran. But will she radically change our approach to the country? Or Cuba, North Korea, or Venezuela? Or on the other hand end our blank cheque of support to Egypt, Israel, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia?

The second different is the relationship to the Democratic Party. Warren wants to take the party as it is and lead it to a more progressive direction. It’s an admirable goal, but without changing the fundamental structure of the Democratic Party, she’ll be constantly blocked by the DNC. The donor class will try and put the kibosh on whatever she proposes. Due to his background running more grassroots campaigns and insurgent candidacies, Sanders has more experience building the mass movements necessary to change the party from within.  The Democrats have to become a party devoted and made up of the working class first and foremost. Otherwise, it’ll never be able to fight directly for the proposals of Sanders, Warren, AOC, or anyone on the Left. The Party needs to speak with one voice and fight as one instead of arguing and fighting amongst itself. Since the rich already have a party, the GOP, they can all go there instead. A Sanders victory will help accelerate that trend. He’ll push the rich out of the party like St. Patrick and the snakes in Ireland.

Lastly, Sanders and Warren have different visions of the economy and what needs to happen with American Capitalism. Warren is a reformist. To be fair, she’s a far greater reformist than anyone since FDR and that should be noted. However, she’ll leave in place the parts of the economy that have brought us back to levels of inequality not seen since the 1920s. What good is to merely reform things so that we may one day have to deal with finance wrecking everything all over again? A stronger approach has to be taken. Warren hints that she might be able to get there eventually. She has proposed putting workers on corporate boards. But Sanders sees the system as fundamentally unequal and unsound. He knows that attempts to regulate it while leaving capital in the hands of an unelected elite is no long-term solution. He understands that the democratic control of the economy is the only way forward. In Sanders’ American it will be for the many, not the few at all levels of society. So as in the ballot box, so as in the boardroom.

I know Warren has more concrete proposals than Sanders, or at least ideas for specific legislation that have managed to percolate to the top of the political discussion. Sanders’ campaign is more about emphasis and stressing values. Both of them have a vision, however it is filtered in different ways that reflect the different personalities running. Remember my old extended metaphor of the Plain and the Mountain? Sanders and Warren are both candidates from the Mountain who are uniquely situates to leave the rafters and seize the Dais. Each of them will do so with their own approach. Warren is coming down from Mount Sinai, with commandments and laws. Meanwhile, Bernie is coming down from Mount Olivet. Either way, they’re coming for your graven images, false idols, golden calves, and fig trees.

Nardo Goes West, Part Four

After my first night on the train I woke up to North Dakota in all its broad splendor.  Sure, there were plenty of cereal crops across the horizon, but all lots of small ponds, perhaps left by the retreat of glaciers many thousands of years ago. They were all in use by various birds. I don't think I've ever seen so many ducklings. I'm just used to pigeons in New York City. They're never old or young. they're always middle-aged adults, just like the people in the sitcoms that take place there.

I looked over the instructions and the metal pieces sticking out of the furniture. I figured out how to put the bed back and turn it into seats, how to turn the seats into a bed, and how to lower the bunk. I used the last trick in case I needed something that could serve as a shelf. I decided to leave the bed down. That way I could sit up or lay down to work or read. I preferred to lie down. Why? Because I could feel the motions of the train sliding under me. When I looked to the side, I could see the world flying on by and it was easy to imagine I was flying too, like some kind of Amtrak superman.

Most of what I saw involved agriculture of one kind or another. It was interesting to be so close to the food supply, at least as grain, dairy, and meat are concerned. I didn't see much in the way of fruit or vegetable production until we reached Washington. Not only did I see the crops, I saw how the crops get to market. There were silos everywhere and occasionally I saw train cars getting filed with the bounty they stored inside.

Where last night's steak came from

This is where last night's dinner may have gotten its lunch from.
It could be anywhere from Fargo to Missoula 

For breakfast, I had a quesadilla with eggs and green tomatillo sauce. It was the only thing on the menu that looked like it had any kick to it. My suspicions were confirmed when the two gentleman I sat with ordered eggs and then ordered salsa to put on them after they saw my dish in all its glory.

This dish is called the Battle of Puebla, because the Mexican
quesadilla is displacing the occupying French Croissant

There is plenty of salsa to go around (I had an extra container of red salsa in addition to what was on my plate) so don't be afraid to ask! During breakfast I sat with two older gentlemen. One was from North Dakota, near Rugby, the other was from Juneau, Alaska. The man from North Dakota was a doctor for an Indian Reservation and talked about the health challenges facing the local tribes because of sugary foods, in addition to alcohol. He also told us the various legends and stories (and I assume jokes) behind how Devils Lake got its name. He also pointed out the different kinds of birds and mentioned the area was popular with hunters. The traveler from Juneau asked the man from North Dakota what he liked about living there. He laughed and said it was because there were no people.

After breakfast, I went to the observation car, to well, observe. The sky was clear above me and the land was fertile in all directions. With nothing else to distract me, or even tempt me, I saw and looked out at the country rolling on by.

The upper windows

North Dakota, not to be confused with South Dakota

Rugby, North Dakota. It's the geographical center of North America

We passed through several small cities and large towns such as Rugby and Minot. It was probably the farthest I've ever been from the ocean. I live right near Ruby Road in Brooklyn and I guess I can sum up my summer as going from Rugby Road to Rugby town. When I think about it, more people probably live on that street than live in Rugby, North Dakota. Okay, that's enough talking about Rugby or rugby.

We continued moving through North Dakota and into Montana. I saw Fort Union, which straddles the boundary between the two states.

Fort Union, preserving the uneasy peace between
Montana and North Dakota

We reached Wolf Point by lunchtime. Next to it was the Fort Peck Indian Reservation. I had lunch with an Australian couple from Brisbane. They were on a trip around the world. Like me, they were yearning to see the mountains, especially any with snow on them. They told me they don't get to see much of either in Australia. I had a tortilla dish with chorizo while the couple had the mussels. Despite our distance from the sea, they said the shellfish was good. According to our waitress, the mussels are the secret dish that nobody orders but those who do always enjoy. I didn't mind my meal. It seems the most interesting options for eating on the train involve Mexican cooking. Well, at least until they bring back the gnocchi. I had the caramel parfait for dessert.

I hung around my roomette car after lunch. Working, taking pictures, and reading as we went through the great expanse of Montana. People forget how big the state is (number four). Near Malta, the train had to go through a "duck and tuck" in order to let a freight train get by. We often had to manuever around them on the trip. Pretty soon, Carlo was coming around to take dinner reservations. He continued to promote it with the phrase "real meals with real people." I put in a reservation for dinner with him for a later time 6:45. I had trouble getting power for my laptop, and with no signal for my phone, I decided to go to the observation car and have a drink.

Having wine on the train

More Montana. The state's name is a lie.

The new state capitol of Montana

Switching into Mountain Time

Sitting Bull

By this point I had enough with amber waves. I wanted purple mountains majesty!

But there were penguins

Maybe not the but certainly an Overlook Hotel

I had dinner with a couple from outside Fargo, ND and a woman originally from Minot, but who now lived outside Seattle. I had the risotto because there was no gnocchi, again. We all had wine with dinner. Some of it was corked, others had a screw-on (or off) cap. The risotto was decent. I had the fruit and cheese plate for dessert. I got a sense of how small a world North Dakota is because my dinner companions realized they had mutual acquaintances. I must say I've learned more about life in the Flickertail State on this trip than ever before. 

By the end of dinner we started to see the mountains. The real mountains. Not the lumpy hills of central Montana, but the real peaks of Glacier National Park. I spent the rest of the evening looking at the mountains and the tall trees that grow around them. At least until we lost all daylight. I admit I felt nervous around the evergreens growing by the rails. I wondered if they knew what we had done to their shorter cousins back East during Christmas time. Were they ready to lay their branches on us? I realized then I'd had too much wine.

More mountains

Unfortunately, I had to sleep through large parts of the trip through the mountains. When I woke up, I was on the other side of Glacier National Park. There were still plenty of visual glories awaiting me in the Cascades. I also had a phone signal for the first time in a day. At this point in the trip, the most of the sleeping cars had emptied out, at least on my level. I guess a number of people got off at Whitefish or Spokane. On my way to the shower, Carl, the sleeping car attendant, said I looked like a young John Hodgeman. This was the highlight of the trip, until we reached the next mountain range.

I had breakfast with a father and son from Janesville, Wisconsin. I saw orchards filled with pear and apple trees, as well as homesteads scattered around the shade of the mountain. I thought it looked like the end of the Oregon Trail and tried to see if I could find a tombstone with "pepperoni and cheese" on it. I wasn't in Oregon but the geography is similar.

We stopped in Leavenworth, which is supposed to look like a Bavarian village. I couldn't see it from the tracks. I did see Bigfoot though. I can't wait for my check from the National Enquirer.

The lounge car was closed, which was lame. I wonder if it was because it was no longer part of the train. In Spokane, the Empire Builder splits in half, just like Rome and Constantinople. My part of the train goes onto Seattle. The other half heads on to Portland. We get to keep the dining car, while the folks heading to Portland have to deal with a pre-made breakfast box. I stayed in my roomette for the rest of the trip. The views were good, except when we went into the Cascade Tunnel, the longest train tunnel in North America. It's 7.89 miles of darkness all the way through.

Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest

We began to make our descent towards the coast. My ears actually popped because of the change in air pressure. We went along rives and streams. I saw some of the bluest moving waters I've ever seen. 

The water out here makes Poland Spring look like backwash from
a spittoon used by an Antebellum Senator

Now it was time for the trip to come to an end. The Empire Builder reached Puget sound and traveled south along the shoreline. There were forest fires going on, so visibility was reduced. Even in the city you could see it. Everything seemed hazy and people wore masks over their mouths.

Puget Sound, it's foggy because of the wildfires going on

Finally, we came to Seattle and I saw several landmarks as the train snaked its way into the King Street Station.

The people of Seattle loved Frasier so much they built
a miniature version of the logo

I wonder if I could sell this picture to Getty images?

We pulled in with a slight delay. I went into the station and enjoyed its splendor, a far cry from the Pittsburgh station. I didn't check my bags, so I was able to pick up my things and head right out into the Emerald City.

Hello Seattle!

Overall, I would rate the experience highly, especially for a city-slicker such as myself. I got to see a lot of the country I've never seen before, met different kinds of people, and learned to adjust a different kind of lifestyle. Riding the train let me appreciate the countryside and the way that we as Americans use it. I wish the train did have WiFi on board. Not that I would've spent the whole time just watching old episodes of the Simpsons. It would've been nice to listen to some music while the country went by. I also wish there had been communication ahead of time about the lack of a sundries pack. Nevertheless, it was fun and (here it the survey answer) I would recommend the trip to my family and/or friends. Now it's time to try out the southern route from LA to New Orleans, or maybe head through the middle of the country through Denver.

Nardo Goes West, Part Two

I spent most of my time on the Capitol Limited sleeping. I went to sleep outside of Pittsburgh and woke up around Elkhart, Indiana. Along the way I woke up briefly in Toledo, then went back to bed. It wasn't the most comfortable sleep, and I think I would've slept better if I took the upper bunk instead of stretching out on the lower bed they made from the seats. The advantage of this one is that I could get up and use the bathroom without breaking my neck. There was also less of a risk of rolling out and also breaking my neck. 

Unbeknownst to me, there were three settings for the light in my roomette. There was complete darkness, complete light, and a third that I left on by mistake. It was the "night light" setting. This left a blue light on. I guess it's supposed to help you find your things before going out to use the bathroom, or meeting someone for a clandestine roomette rendez-vous. I didn't have to do either of those things. I just needed to sleep and rest my body after doing so much walking in Pittsburgh. The blue light made it difficult. I tossed and turned, and not just because of the gyrations of the train.

I got enough sleep to function in the morning. I explored the train as much as I could, and watched as my phone switched from Eastern to Central Time. Walking though the empty corridors of the sleeper car made me feel like I was in a murder mystery. Was I the perpetrator or the detective, or both? All I knew was that I was thirsty, so I went to get myself a drink. They have water on the trains, with little cut to put it in. However, it's difficult to get a hold or them and pull them out of the hole they hang down from. You end up crumpling them and they look like Garth's cup from Wayne's World.

Hey Mr. Spigot, if you're gonna spew, spew into this

One difference between the trains out West and those back East, is that they honk so much more. It doesn't matter if you're in the city, a town, or out in the countryside. The train sounds the alarm more often than I ever heard it on the line between New York and DC. I think it's because the railroad out here is more integrated into the community it goes through. The railroad wasn't built off to the side from places that were already developed, cities and towns grew up around the rails. This means there's more streets crossing the tracks, with cars that have to be alerted. It also means the train runs right by places with kids, such as parks, playgrounds, and backyards. There are times you feel so close to the houses out here, you expect the families inside to invite you in for dinner.

That morning I also made use of the showers. It's not as hard as you might think. You just have to keep pressing this little metal cylinder on the wall to get water. But they give you towels and the supply of hot water is plentiful. If the train banks ones way or another too hard, there's a sturdy metal bar to hold onto. Remember to use your used towels, and the used towels of other people to clean the excess water on the floor in front of the shower. This way people won't slip on what's dripped off your body.

I guess the shower symbol is supposed to be someone either washing their armpits
or singing. I kinda see a guy giving a Nazi salute, which is not
exactly the best look for the door to a shower on a train. Or any shower for that matter.

This is the real Amber Alert. It lets you know
When you've locked the door
to the bathroom or the shower (showers and bathrooms are separate)

Breakfast was simple. The Capitol Limited doesn't have the most advanced facilities compared to the Empire Builder, but it makes up for it with this box. Inside, there was a blueberry muffin, a Kashi bar, a cup of yogurt with fruit on the bottom and granola on the top, and, AND a fruit plate that had pineapple on it. There was also a moisty napkin, to wipe your hands of all the Fructose off your hands. The coffee was basic, but it was complimentary. 

Okay, I didn't take a picture of what's inside, but take my word for it

There's no wifi on the train, unlike the ones that run on the East Coast, including the Pennsylvanian. The Empire Builder doesn't have internet either. At least I could still use the signal on my phone. There were times I couldn't get a signal for that on the Empire Builder. Pretty much from Fargo to Spokane, I couldn't send texts, receive calls, or access my emails. I managed to keep myself busy other ways, namely by writing, editing, and reading Kafka on the Shore.  I also looked at the countryside passing by. It was flat and filled with small towns that drew their sustenance from the nearby fields of corn. The countryside was green and it was a welcome sight for my eyes after so many months of staring at concrete, brick, and steel in Brooklyn and Manhattan.

Alas, the respite did not last for long. We pulled into Chicago, city of windy shoulders.

The Willis Tower looking like one of the knights from Bedknobs and Broomsticks

I didn't have any time to explore Chicago while waiting to switch trains. However, Amtrak is generous with us Empire Builders. They set up a lounge for us in the train station. Other long-distance passages can wait there as well. It's called the Metropolitan Lounge. They offered us complimentary champagne, cheese, and crudites. Most importantly, they have a free place to store luggage, in case you do have enough time to wander off.

The Metropolitan Lounge has two, two levels!

They have a CANDY BUFFET (caveat, it's mostly old people candy)

When the Empire Builder pulled in, they separated the people in the sleeper cars from those in coach. Yes, you can buy a seat in coach and sit there during the whole ride. They seem to have more leg room than the average train car. I saw people sleeping in the seats, so it's possible. You don't have any privacy though. Plus, you have to pay for all your meals on train. The sleepers get to board first, leaving the waiting area where feminine voices play over speakers announcing the track numbers ad nauseam. I had to listen to #13 repeat her number in the face of #15, who spoke hers back.

After boarding I met our attendants, Carl and Carlo (no joke, and I presume, no relation). Carl was responsible for setting up the beds at night and Carlo helped collect our dinner reservations. Breakfast and lunch are first come, first serve, but dinner requires a specific time. Carlo was adamant about the value of the dinner. He kept telling everyone it was a "real meal, with real people." But if we wanted a box with some chicken and a cookie in it, we could place an order for one to eat in the roomettes by ourselves.

Hello, it's me.

The Empire Builder doesn't have any sundries. I should've taken my bag from the Capitol Limited. Keep that in mind if you try and follow my route. That said, the Empire Builder also has towels and sheets, plus free bars of something called "deodorant soap."

This is where my traveling companion would sit, IF I HAD ONE