Fullerton to Flagstaff!
So, we recently had the opportunity of journeying to Flagstaff, AZ to spend the weekend with our dear scriptwriting friend. We were knocking out our pilot episode for Vik’s brainchild TV series and our friend suggested locking ourselves away in her house - in the mid-winter… Why not, right?
We looked into flights. There just isn’t a direct flight from our pretend little local airport so, they suggested the Amtrak sleeper train. I mean, how totally fun and fabulous is that?
We parked our tiny car on the roof of Fullerton station (free for 72 hours - yay!) and trotted off towards the platform, each of us towing a little wheelie case.
(In retrospect, a case each was not really required as we only wore one and a half outfits between us the entire weekend and there is very little room in the sleeper car for two cases, even small ones - just a tip from the top!)
On the platform, Vik went into the shop and managed to find some mini Prosecco bottles and a few snacks and we waited for the train to roll in.
I must say, we felt a bit like two characters about to board the Orient Express. It was chilly and dark and the train crept into the station in a very Agatha Christie-like fashion, sounding its horn. Ok, so there was no steam but a lovely lady opened the door when the train stopped and came down the stairs with a step stool.
“Are you my two Victorias?” (How did she know? I loved it.) “Yes we are and may I say how much I love your sparkly eye-shadow!” We climbed aboard and followed her up the tight staircase to our sleeper room. She told us that our dinner seating was at 7 pm and this just sounded so damn glamorous, I felt sure my maid would show up with my dinner attire on a hanger at any moment. I was really looking forward to a lovely dinner a deux. Our lovely sparkly one (can’t believe I can’t remember her name) told us that when we were dining, she would put our beds down for us. Again, all just so quaint and romantic, so off we went to the dining car.
The maitre D (though I am not sure he was totally worthy of the name) ushered to us to come down the half-empty car towards him. Vik was in front and I was lingering behind wondering what seat we should pick. He instructed us to sit at the first table but I noticed two people were already sitting there with their backs to us. I looked around a bit confused and said oh no, we don’t want to disturb these people. Vik told the waiter that we would prefer to sit on our own and he announced: “Oh no, it’s communal dining on Amtrak”
What the fuck? You’ve got to be kidding me! I looked around and there were empty seats everywhere. Totally perplexing and just weird. I bet no one had to share a table on the Orient Fucking Express now, did they? With all hopes of the dinner a deux dashed, we settled in to our seats to greet our dinner companions.
And then the realization…the maitre D has seated the two lesbians opposite an Amish couple! I almost choked and could not look at Vik. Instead I looked around at all the other places the waiter could have seated the “sinners”. Right next to us was a table with two single ladies (who clearly looked like they batted for our team). Why, oh why did the numb-nut waiter not place us there? I mean we could have covered some ground as we soared past San Bernardino and up the Cajon Pass. Instead I turned to face our companions and wondered if this was just part of the script and that someone was about to jump out and say ‘surprise!’ But alas no, this was our dinner reality and I knew I had to dig deep.
Vik ordered us double vodkas on the rocks. Both the Amish and the waiter looked surprised, I just hung my drunk, shameless head. When the drinks arrived:- apple juice and iced-tea for them, quadruple Tito’s for us, Mr Amish spoke up: “that looks good”. Finally, he connected on our level! Things were looking up. I really did pull out all the stops, I have to say. We commented on the menu, the bread and butter, the fact that the train had stopped “due to a trespasser being struck up ahead by a freight train”. Oh no (sigh) we definitely came together on that one. We ordered our food and I talked about how interesting it was that their language had many German words. Mr Amish did most of the talking. Mrs Amish seemed to burp and eat the bread with such gusto and smiled occasionally to show many missing teeth.
I talked about lost languages and compared theirs to Gaelic (ok, ok, I told you I really had to search hard!). In the back of my mind I kept thinking, how come the Amish are actually allowed to go on the train at all? I thought it was totally verboten and they only had covered wagons and ponies. I actually googled it later and discovered that, in fact, the Amish are big train users if they have to go long distances, especially if they need to go to Tijuana for cheap medical treatment which, we discovered, was the case with our new pals. They had actually left their son and daughter-in-law south of the border for a ‘procedure’. I had to stop myself from asking what kind of procedure. Thank God the food arrived before I could ask.
We tucked in, they prayed.
As the train started to move again, I realized that I really did have to try to get a sneaky pic of the duo just to remind myself that this chance meeting actually happened. Vik had been sending me subtle texts throughout our earlier awkward conversations saying things like “Why the fuck are you talking so much” and “this is straight out of a movie” and “can we order another drink” so I pretended to get my phone out to send a text and bingo, I snapped a gem of a shot using a technique I learned from my number 3 daughter when trying to shoot a picture of an old lady at LAX carrying a camo NRA bag as if it were her purse!
So dear ones, here they are below, in all their Amish glory - along with a few more snaps from the trip!
Please note that the plates on the table are plastic and this was another let down from Amtrak! Agatha Christie is currently rolling over in her grave in dismay at the way standards have fallen so rapidly for rail travel (another sigh) I did, for a moment, worry about posting a picture of them on Facebook and Insta because, what if they saw it? And then I remembered, no one in Amish country is allowed a smartphone so…I think I might be safe (still, I cut off their heads a bit to protect the innocent!)
So just a few takeaways from our wee train trip:
BYOB and drink heavily in your sleeper car before dinner, so the waiter doesn’t shame you and in case you need resuscitation after learning who you dining companions are!
Bring duct tape to seal all the shit that rattles in your sleeper car (there is a lot of shit that rattles!)
Drink heavily so you can actually get to sleep to drown out all the sounds of all the shit that rattles
Take tons of photos - it’s a pretty wonderful way to see this ole’ country of ours
There is something comforting in the Amish attire though isn’t there? You’d never have to have good hair or have to decide what to wear every day!
Not a painting!
I am so deep… having a moment with nature (or just blinded by the bloody sun?)
Get your kicks!
Barstow in the dawn!