Learning from the mistakes of others

[PalmettoTiger 1]

You, yes YOU, have the opportunity to practice a crucial skydiving skill, right here, right now, sitting on your ass in front of your computer. "Wow, which one!?" you ask? Why, learning from the mistakes of others, of course!
The Short Version.
--other person to learn from: me.
--mistake: Amtrak.
--solution: fly, or drive, or walk, or bike, or don't go at all... but whatever you do, don't go Amtrak!!
The Epic Tale of Sadness and Woe.
I'm headed home for a few days over Spring Break. Driving from here to home is an 11 hour, 650 mile journey. Gas for the round trip, a few cups of coffee, a few fast-food meals, and fixing the headlight or windshield wipers or whatever else fell victim to Murphy's Law moments before I set out runs the cost to about $160.
Of course, for the low low price of $263, I could let Amtrak do the driving, and only spend an extra 3½ hours en route. Plus, I could sleep (not recommended while doing the driving myself), or even study (yeah right) while riding the train. I can even put off the decision until the day before, unlike flying. WHAT A DEAL!!!
The first part of the trip wasn't so bad. Although I arrived in the dead of night, my train actually made it to Columbia 10 minutes early. Dad and I figured we'd better make good use of those bonus minutes and go check and make sure Krispy Kreme still made donuts, and ensure that those donuts are still ranked somewhere between nectar and ambrosia on the deliciousness scale. Right on both counts. (We're incorrigible.)
Fast forward to the return leg of the trip. I find myself all packed and ready to go at 8 Friday evening. Since my train won't leave for another five hours, I decided to go see a movie with my best friend and sister. After the movie I switch my gear into my sister's car, since my friend is really tired and my sister can drive me to the train station instead. Unfortunately, I forgot to switch my ticket too. CRAP. I realize this about one block from the train station, with ninety minutes to go. No sweat, Mike left because he's tired, he probably went straight home, we'll just swing by his house... um, of course, he's kinda moved since I last went to his place. I'm almost certain that he's in a new apartment two houses over... Fuggit. My options are buy a new ticket, or hope Mike lives (or at least parks) near his old apartment. I choose the latter, and am rewarded with the sight of an empty parking lot. F[*censored, Mrs. Radloff wouldn't approve*]!!!! I run to another friend's pad (he lives close by), hoping that he knows where Mike has moved, or that I can at least use his phone to call Mike. Of course, that would require my other friend to actually be home, which he isn't.
On a whim inspired by sheer desperation, I go prowling through all the backyards in the block, and finally find Mike's car.
Locked.
My ticket cackles triumphantly at me from the floorboard where it fell when it squirmed out of my backpack in its bid for freedom. Oh sure, it thinks it has the last laugh... but I spy a Swiss Army Brick™ lying nearby. HAH!! Just what I need. I can smash the window, open the door, grab my ticket, and have my getaway driver speed me to the train station with plenty of time. ("Whoa, bummer dude, someone broke into your car after the movie? Well, did they take anything? No? Damn, you got lucky.") Mike doesn't have an anti-theft system, but he does have good insurance. Besides, I have a great alibi for my fingerprints to be all over his car - I just rode with him to the movie!
Fortunately for him, I decided to knock on all the doors of the apartment block he's parked behind, and find my friend on the second try. Ticket in hand, I make it to the train station with twenty minutes to spare. My train leaves Columbia at 12:42 AM and gets into Trenton at 2:32 PM... theoretically. When I get to the station, the train is already listed as one hour late. Time passes... and the train is now listed as 2 hours and fifteen minutes late.
As I groggily stare at the clock, two things come to my attention: first, if I hadn't had the little drama with the ticket, the train would be on time. Second, some moron steps out onto the platform every time he hears a whistle, and proceeds to pace in front of the automatic doors for ten minutes, so the doors keep popping back open and dumping cold air onto the waiting area. After the appointed hour arrives, someone announces over the PA that our train is stuck behind a disabled freight train forty minutes south of Columbia, and won't be able to move until a maintenance crew can come fix the freight car. Now maybe I'm cynical, but I'm not really confident that the CSX maintenance crews will respond with the alacrity (or preparedness) of your average paramedic or firefighter at 3 am on a Saturday morning.
And of course, I'm right. After apparently trying to fix the freight train with duct tape, voodoo dolls, and really mean stares, the situation is finally resolved and the Amtrak train rolls into Columbia at SIX AM. For those of you keeping score at home, that's over FIVE HOURS late, or over one third of the (theoretical) total travel time.
Of course, it gets better from here. We're forced to wait several hours outside Camden, SC for a replacement crew, because our current crew has exceeded the 12-hour shift limit, and cannot legally operate the train. The replacement crew is awaiting us somewhere to the north, where our train should have picked them up and made the switch two or three hours ago. Once that's resolved, we wait for a few more hours outside Raleigh, NC... for no apparent reason.
The passengers are all restless, groggy from waiting so long, and grumpy at having their Saturday plans wrecked. Even better, since the train was supposed to be in Washington, D.C. and get resupplied before lunch, they've run out of food. Can you feel the love yet?
The kicker is that all track south of Richmond isn't owned or maintained by Amtrak - the freight companies are in charge. So the tracks are in worse shape (max safe speeds are lower), and all the switching and routing forces us onto sidings to let TRAINLOADS OF FREAKING WOOD CHIPS AND COAL pass us. No, I'm not bitter. Not at all.
I finally made it to Trenton at 10:45. Again, for those of you keeping score at home, that's over eight hours late - I could have driven the whole route at 35 mph and still beat the train. I barely caught the last NJ Transit train of the evening back to school. Now I'm back, my sleep cycle is completely inverted, I'm hungry but the pizza guys don't deliver this late, and as long as I have a viable alternative like riding a unicycle backwards through a blizzard, I'm never taking Amtrak again.
GRRRrrrrrrr.
PTiger
I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in a most peculiar way

[indyz 1]

I've never had a problem with Amtrak. My train left 20 minutes late one time, but that's better than any plane I've ever taken. Of course, I only take the short trip from Champaign to Chicago and back. The scary part about that is jumping on a Metra train (commuter rail) to get out to the 'burbs. It's usually about midnight and I want to sleep, but that's just asking to be robbed. Still better than the El, though.
--
Brian