The Years Without a Santa: Pennsylvania Railroad (1943)

Before the war the rich could board a Constellation or Clipper for exotic locals but for the average Joe and Jane it was trains and automobiles and the occasional ocean liner. War changed all that. The skies (and seas for that fact) weren't friendly and even if they were wartime rationing would have curtailed non-military travel.

Still, a the December 1943 issue of Life Magazine Pennsylvania Railroad ran this ad touting its war-effort tonnage. I've started calling this sort of ad "patriotism banking", the hope that touting a company's patriotism would equal dollars in the post-war economy.

So this Christmas, while Aunt Martha is alone on the coast instead of safe in the bosom of her family, just think of all those tanks that made the trip she couldn't.

Sedalia MO Scott Joplin Ragtime Festival: Day 2

Day two of the Sedalia Scott Joplin Ragtime Festival has come and gone and, as with most day twos, some of the glow wears off and you begin to discover little irritations. Our room at the Bothwell is a wonderful example of the expectations of the 20’s traveler, but it’s also a reminder I’m not a 20’s traveler. For one, the bed has proven to be the equivalent of sleeping on one of those bags stuntmen fall into when diving from the top of a building. For travel-weary, aching backs it’s less than ideal. So, today my post will be short, since I’m nearly falling asleep on the keyboard, I just hope the lousy internet connection uploads this in less than an hour.

This morning we went to a seminar entitled The Ragtime Life where ragtime master Max Morath. Max may be familiar, he’s been banging the ivories longer than I’ve been alive and worked with the great Eubie Blake, wrote and starred in the PBS American Experience series, and if none of that rings any bells he did play piano on one show of someone you might know – one Captain Kangaroo. His description of what it meant to be there when ragtime went from being “old timey music” nobody listened to, to the soundtrack of The Sting was really eye opening. I thought being a musician was something that just happened, an outgrowth of being really talented and driven, but there is a lot of compromise and plenty of trials along the way.

Next I got to watch Kelly and Bob interviewed about their experience at the first Joplin-fest back in 1974. Nice playing paparazzi for that event, it was fun to listen to both of them talk through their part at the beginning of this festival.

Well, now it’s off to bed. Tomorrow is our day away from seminars. We’re heading to Bothwell Lodge for a tour of the mansion and a little hiking to compensate for the cookies and barbecue we’ve been indulging in over this week.

The Funnies - Time Change (1892)

Visiting Englishman: By the way, what's the difference in time between New York and Philadelphia?

New Yorker: About twenty years.

Life Magazine January 21, 1892

Florida Trips on Clyde-Mallory Lines

Ah, winter. Anyone who's reading this on the East Coast is probably wondering "what does this jerk from Indiana know from winter when we've got 3 feet of snow and they've got squat?" Fair question, I'd take the snow myself, but then I'm one of those weirdos who really love a good snowstorm. Here in Indiana winter's a time when the sun goes on hiatus and we roll out the gray flannel skies for about five months. Even though I do like the cold and get as excited as a schoolboy when there are predictions of snow, I can't help but let my mind drift southward when the wind is biting my ears. Yes, the holidays are done and it's time to think about retreating from the cold and, if you spring from the Midwestern blue-collar soil like I do, that probably means Florida.

The old saying goes "getting there is half the fun", but in our day and age the airlines have gone to extremes to punish anyone who goes about with thoughts of enjoyable travel. To fly to Florida we're goaded and prodded through security checks by TSA agents who were to inhumane to work at Guantanamo Bay. Afterward we are herded into holding pens while our flight is delayed so that the baggage handlers can work over our suitcases with blackjacks before evenly distributing them on planes bound for Eastern Europe and the Sudan. Eventually we trundle into steerage where we sit in seats designed by Joseph Mengele and fight for space with the UPS parcels. Eventually we're winging our way to Miami via New Jersey with a seven hour layover in Potsdam. Yes, modern convenience is a wonderful thing! Oh what fools our grandparents must have been. Why just imagine what a trip to Florida must have been like a hundred years ago! Okay, you don't need to imagine, I'll tell you.

In the January 1918 issue of Outdoor Life Magazine, the Clyde-Mallory Lines ran an ad for 5 and 12 day tours to Jacksonville, St. Augustine, Miami, Palm Beach, Key West, Tampa, and St. Petersburg with a full stopover in Charleston, SC. Passengers would depart from New York and enjoy meals in the ship's dining room, relaxing in the smoking lounges, dancing, music, and deck-side sports and entertainments as they made their way down the Eastern Seaboard to their final destination. Then they'd wend their way through Florida, eventually rendezvousing with their return ship

The 12 day tour went for $65.40 which, adjusted for inflation, roughly equates to $1065 round trip. However, considering the obscene excess of modern cruise ships, the amenities probably seem paltry. There are no all-night binge-bars, no casinos, no eight-story mezzanines, no in-pool movies, just three squares a day served on real china, the sea air, and the scenery passing by as you made your way southward. Something to be said for simplicity, the lack of screaming kids, not worrying about gaining 25 pounds just because you're exposed to 24-7 all you can eat buffets, and the time to write a letter or postcard or two. Yep, I think I'll trade the Mega-Giganto-Disney-Princess-in-your-bathroom Cruise and just enjoy the sea itself.

Pan AM and 7 Hours to Europe

I did a quick check and the standard flight time from New York to London hasn't changed since this ad ran back in 1959 when jet airlines were a new thing. The Pan Am Jet Clipper economy-class probably compared favorably with today's business class for amenities (sure, you couldn't get jabbed $500 for internet service, but who needs that) and most likely exceeded it for leg room and service. Yet today no air carrier can figure out how to treat their customers like anything more than cattle. Hmm...

Dieselpunk Saturday: Monofail

What's the difference between Popular Science and Astounding Tales in the 1930's? Astounding Tales cost 20 cents an issue and had stories by the likes of C. L. Moore. Popular Science, on the other hand, just had wild and baseless ideas with fancy covers designed to sell copies. I'm trying to figure out the benefit of a blade-driven monorail, but I'm coming up empty. I'm equally perplexed by the rudder-looking tail at the back of the vehicle. I've had the good fortune to sit in the cab of a diesel-powered train and I know that there's an engineer, but no steering. Anyway, it's fun to look at and very Dieselpunk, so I thought I'd share.

The Great White Fleet and the United Fruit Company Steamship Service

Today as part of our Summer Vacation series we embark on the Great White Fleet of the United Fruit Company Steamship Line. "What's this?" you ask. "A Fruit Company running a fleet of ocean liners?" Your confusion is forgivable, but United Fruit Company isn't just known for introducing Americans to the saucy Ms. Chiquita Banana. They traded in tropical fruit, political dissonance that still plagues Central America today, and first-class holidays for Anglo wasps who wanted to see the Caribbean.

United Fruit was formed in 1899 when Minor C. Keith merged his banana trading company with Andrew W. Preston's Boston Fruit Company. The company controlled vast plantations and transportation networks in Central America, Colombia, Ecuador, and the West Indies (regions that would become known as Banana Republics due to the importance of their one commodity, the Cavendish). United Fruit would continue its exploitation and neocolonialistic interference in the countries where it operated until 1970 when it merged with Eli M. Black's AMK, becoming United Brands Company (though I doubt this made the company any fairer to those it historically exploited). But I digress from the point of this post, the enjoyment of warm, tropical breezes and fresh sea air!

United Fruit Lines' Great White Fleet was a fleet of cargo ships which transported bananas and other tropical fruits from the company's South and Central American plantations and ports to the United States. The name harkens back to 1907 and President Teddy Roosevelt's  fleet of touring warships. Teddy's ships bore a fresh, white paint job instead of the customary gray, becoming known as the Great White Fleet. United Fruit Company borrowed the idea, supposedly painting their ships white to reflect the tropical sunlight and allow banana temperatures to be more easily maintained, but just as likely reminding would-be rebels of Teddy's "big stick".

At some point, United Fruit added a luxury passenger service to their ship line. Probably to help defray the cost of sending empty ships south. The ad comes from a July 1914 issue of Life Magazine. It's a little unimaginative, the typical jazz age couple at the railing staring out on the bounding main. It took me three viewings before I caught the second steamship on the horizon. Personally, I like to think that the guy with his hands folded behind his back is a spy, heading for a meeting with his handler on the fore deck. At dinner someone will ask, "Say, what happened to that fellow with the pencil mustache? Wasn't he seated at our table?" To which the gentleman with the baritone voice and German accent will answer, "I believe the gentleman you speak of disembarked in Santa Marta, Frau Smith. Disreputable fellow, I'm sure the remainder of the journey will be much pleasanter without him. Care for more champagne?"

Quaint 16th Century Islands

Summer vacation season has arrived again, bringing with it warm tropical breezes, long lazy days, and the urge to wander. Since I spend a lot of time looking at the past, I figured this would be a good time to peruse the exotic travel offerings our grandparents and great grandparents might have considered when planning their summer holiday.

I'm kicking things off with a 1920 ad from Travel Magazine. Bermuda had been a British colony since 1609 and in 1920 celebrated the tercentenary of Bermudan parliamentary government. That year also marked the first royal visit to the island when Albert Edwards, Prince of Wales and soon to become King Edward VIII arrived aboard the HMS Renown where he was a serving Royal Navy officer. Prince Edward's official duties during the trip included opening the King Edward VII Memorial Hospital, visiting St. Geroge's Island where he was principle guest in celebrations marking the 300th anniversary of the Bermudan State House as well as the completion of St. Peter's Church, and officially opening Somers Gardens.

That same year the UK-based Furness Withy shipping company began investing in Bermuda by taking over the Quebec Steamship Company and renaming it the Furness Bermuda Line. Furness Bermuda ran a three week service, bringing mail, freight, and passengers to the island from New York. Bermuda had a major attraction for American tourists - alcohol. The drought that was prohibition settled over American on January 29, 1920 and would remain in place until December 5, 1933 and during this thirteen-year period American tourists sought the warm waters and cool drinks of the Caribbean as a remedy to their moralistic problem. Furness Withy made the best of the prohibition era, investing in Bermudian holiday facilities such as the Mid Ocean Golf Club, the St. George, Bermudian and Castle Harbor hotels, and two tenders to ferry passengers from ship to hotel.

During the 20's Furness's Bermuda Line consisted of three ships: the Victoria, the St. George, and the Forts Hamilton and the ad featured here focuses on this last ship. It took some digging to unravel the fate of the Forts Hamilton and this is largely due to Furness' poor advertising. In 1923 the Hamilton still appeared on the covers of Furness' sailings brochures, but she no longer was a part of the line's fleet. In 1921 Furness sold her to the Bermuda and West Indies Steamship Company and this began her slow decline. She was sold again in 1926, 1930, 1931, and finally in 1932. In 1933 she was laid up in Trieste Italy where she was was eventually sold for scrap and broke up. Strange to think that the steel which went into building a pleasure vessel for British and American tourists probably went into the war effort which would kill so many of their children.

Let's not leave on that somber note, though. After all, this is a post about vacationing not the cruel ironies of history. So, I'll close with a couple home movies of Bermuda gleaned from the YouTube archives. Note the guy holding up the bottle of booze in the first clip. Spitting in the eye of prohibition, I like his style!

The MS Oslofjiord

Any of you who belong to a lodge probably recognize this sort of ad. It ran in the September 1938 issue of Rotary International. Two years later the Rotarians cruised from New York to Rio de Janeiro for the Rotary International Convention.

The Oslofjord was built by A/G Weser Shipbuilders, Bremen Germany for Norwegian America Line. She would strike a mine little more than a year after the Rotarians' convention and sink on January 21st/22nd, 1941.

The Funnies - Check the Trunk (1901)

Life Magazine, 1901

Pennsylvania Railroad - Rain, Snow, and Dark of Night...

The Pennsylvania Railroad apparently took a queue from the US Postal Service, promising to get you there no matter what the weather. I guess that's a lot better than stopping the train somewhere in the middle of Ohio and making an announcement that the trips been cancelled due to mist.

For Americans, this was the tail end of the golden age of travel, World War II wouldn't start for almost six months (this ad comes from the June 30, 1941 issue of Life Magazine) and the US could still pretend Europe's problems were strictly an European affair. There's a lot of talk of thrift owing to the lingering effects of the Great Depression, but you also see mention of luxury accommodations and business too.

The whole thing puts me in a nostalgic mood, thinking back to a time when the experience of travelling was part of the vacation. You didn't dread the airport, nobody charged you extra to have a bag, the airlines hadn't signed a blood-oath to fix prices and prevent customer service, and you could sit back and enjoy the ride. Something's been lost and the geniuses running American and United aren't interested in rediscovering it any time soon.

The Sunshine Belt to the Orient

With the bleak weather of winter bringing the first cold rains to town this week and the remnant of a heck of a cold still playing havoc with my system, I thought I'd kick off a new winter enterprise. The winter months have always been the favorite time to head for the tropics or, if nothing else, at least get out of town for a bit of rest and relaxation so I thought this year I'd air a few travel ads. The sort of stuff a fellow without means, a real George Bailey, would hang on the walls of his drafty house to take his mind off the leaky roof, old windows, and pressures of his job. So here we go, whirl-wind tripping around the world with nothing but a trunk and a dream as our passport.

We start off on the Sunshine Belt Route from aboard one of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company's steamers. Pacific Mail was founded in 1848 by a group of New York business men who had won a contract to transport mail from Panama to California from the US government. The California gold rush ushered in an era of profitability for the company and Pacific Mail played a key role in the growth of San Francisco.

In 1867 Pacific Mail began the country's first trans-Pacific steamship service between San Francisco, Hong Kong, Yokohama, and Shanghai. In 1925 Robert Dollar of the Dollar Steamship Company purchased Pacific Mail and, after Dollar was bailed out by the US government in 1938 the line became little more than an entity on paper. In 1949, after little more than a century of service, Pacific Mail Steamship Company went out of existence.

 I can't help hearing the sound of a steam whistle and envisioning black smoke curling from the stacks as the ship departs the quay and makes for open water when I see this ad. I see myself at the rail, staring out at the hills of San Francisco fading into the distance as the side-wheel churns. Ahead the mysteries of Japan or China await, behind lies an old life that'll be slowly forgotten, erased just like the fog erases the city. The gulls cry and I turn toward my cabin, leaving my memories to the Pacific's depths.

1901 - The Hotel Tampa Bay

It's probably obvious that I've been combing through the archives of Life magazine lately. I know I've aired a lot of comic and advertising material from the 20's issues of the magazine in recent weeks, and I have to say the trend is likely to continue for a while. I have an admitted fascination with the early 20th century and I've been indulging it of late. So I hope you'll forgive my continuing the trend.

The Tampa Bay Hotel was built in 1891 by Henry Bradley Plant as the crown jewel in his Tampa transportation empire. The railroad was the fulcrum of Tampa business, connecting the city's downtown with Port Tampa where passengers could embark on a Plant Line steamship to Mobile, Jamaica, Cuba, or Bermuda. Having invested $2,500,000 to build and $500,000 to furnish his opulent resort-palace, Plant went all in to make the Tampa Bay Hotel a success.

Visitors disembarked from their trains directly into the hotel lobby, having traveled a special railroad spur Plant had built specially for the purpose. Once inside, those staying at the Tampa Bay were treated to luxury previously unknown in the Tampa area. The hotel offered suites of 3 to 7 rooms most of which had private baths. Every room was provided with electricity and telephone, luxury items and novelties in the late 1800's. Tampa's first passenger and freight elevators transported guests and their luggage between the hotel's five floors. The furnishings were opulent, featuring Venetian-style mirrors, European sculptures, and furnishings so luxurious as to be described in the hotel's brochures as "a jewel casket into which has been gathered an infinite number of gems."

In an era before the 24-hour/365-day world we live in, the Tampa Bay Hotel's season ran from December to April  and guests were treated to balls, tea parties, and hotel-organized hunts. A guest could start the day with deep sea fishing, spend the afternoon playing a round of golf, listen to John Philip Sousa perform on the lawn, and after dinner attend a grand ball in the hotel's Music Room. The Tampa Bay Casino located on the hotel grounds served as a spa during the day and in the evenings, with its pool covered by a removable floor, transformed into a concert venue which seated up to two thousand people and featured performers such as Nellie Melba, Sara Bernhardt, and Anna Pavlova.

In 1933 the Tampa Bay Hotel became the home of the Henry B. Plant Museum and the University of Tampa and it remains open today for those lucky enough to have an opportunity to visit.

100 Years Ago Today - The Lincoln Highway

Today we travel superhighways, great six-lane beltways of asphalt and concrete that span thousands of miles of countryside. It’s a banal mode of travel, the most amazing sights you’ll see from the interstate system are billboards advertizing the same handful of fast food joints over and over again. We ride in automobiles that, for the most part, are reliable, safe, and almost identical in every way. A hundred years ago, though, travelling across the country in your merry Oldsmobile or Tin Lizzie was a different affair. In fact, a hundred years ago today the Lincoln Highway became the first paved motorway that crossed the country from coast to coast. The Lincoln Highway was the brainchild of Hoosier Carl G. Fisher and his great road joined New York with San Francisco, crossing thirteen states and spanning 3389 miles in the process.

The Lincoln Highway crossed northern Indiana, starting in Allen County and progressing through Ft. Wayne, Goshen, Elkhart, Mishawaka, La Porte, Westville, Valparaiso, Merrillville, and Dyer before departing into the Illinois plains and to date you still can travel this hundred year old track.

1928 Map of the Lincoln Highway in Northern Indiana

Don’t think of the Lincoln Highway as a highway in the modern sense of the word. Automotive travel in 1913 was a dicey thing; a point brought home by this line is from The Complete Official Road Guide of the Lincoln Highway a promotional guide published in 1916:

“You can drive anywhere between New York and the Indiana-Illinois line either during or after heavy rainstorms without difficulty, but once west of this point it is wise to delay the trip, as many days as necessary, stopping comfortably at a hotel, if heavy rainstorms are encountered. You will make more progress in the end, and you will be saved many disagreeably experience.”

In fact, the guide provides a lengthy list of items the traveler should carry while traversing the Lincoln Highway. The provision section follows with its Donner Party preamble left intact.

It’s always interesting to pour over these old travel guides. Early automotive guides tend to be pretty utilitarian with lots of ads for cars (of course) and the parts to keep them running. There were a couple ads of interest to the native Hoosier, though. 

Hotel Rumely (or Rumley depending on your source) was situated on the Lincoln Highway in La Porte, Indiana and according to their ad they provided “special attention” to “automobile parties”. Somehow I get the feeling special attention means they had parking and maybe bellboys who would help unload the dozens of bags motorists carried. The building still stands today, though it’s now apartments. The Automobile Maintenance Company garage located a block east of the Rumely didn't fare so well and has been lost to time and urban re-muddling. I found a postcard of the Rumely, typical brick and stone behemoth of the era with little architectural detail. You probably could have found a similar hotel in every middling-sized town across the Midwest during the mid-1910’s. By the way, the term European plan used in the Rumely ad might make the hotel sound extra-fancy, but it simply means your meals aren’t included in the cost of your room.

In Elkhart, Indiana motorists could stay at a fancier institution, the Bucklen Hotel. There isn't much information about the Bucklen, except for the fact that like the Rumley its name has had numerous spellings (Bucklen, Bucklin, and Buckland). The Bucklen Hotel connected to the Bucklen Opera House, forming the entertainment center of small-town Elkhart in the mid-1910’s. According to the ad, the hotel was American plan meaning your meals came with the room. Photos I found show the hotel’s slow descent into disuse and decay. In the seventies it looks like there may have been a fire and today a parking lot occupies the corner where the once grand old lady stood.

I’m going to have to plan a trip along the Lincoln Highway this fall. Maybe take in the colors, the cool air, and stop at a few roadside sights. Who knows what provisions I might need, especially if the rains come early!

Travelling in Style

 

Pullman luxury from the 40s. I've taken a 40 hour-plus cross-country trip on Amtrak and the experience can be a harrowing one when you're travelling coach. I'm willing to wager that it's still better than an equivalent air trip, though. That is unless you really get into surly cabin staff, delays, lack of leg room, having your luggage lost, and being charged for breathable air.

 

A Pullman car is something different, though. It's like having a rolling economy hotel for the duration of your trip. Consider the cheapest room aboard an Amtrak train runs (as of today) about $350 one way. With the base-level room you get:

• Meals
• Picture window
• Two reclining seats which convert to a bed; upper berth which folds down from wall
• Restrooms, showers nearby in same train car
• Electrical outlets
• Climate control
• Individual reading lights
• Garment rack
• Fold-down table
• Fresh towels and bed linens
• Soap and shower amenities
• Personal service (turn-down, coffee, paper, make-up bed)
• Bottled water
• Daily newspaper

I've stayed in hotels that didn't offer as much.

 

So, right now you're probably asking, "Who has 40 hours to get to their destination?". The proverbial moose on the table is time, we've become a society that values instant over almost everything else. I concede that train travel to the coast for the weekend isn't viable unless you live, well, on the coast. I submit that as a society we might do well to reacquaint ourselves with time and distance. America is huge, five time zones (counting Hawaii and Alaska) of diversity and difference. Train travel gives you a real appreciation of just how big the US is and, maybe, an illustration of how different we all are.

The 1910 Air Show at the Speedway

1910 and Airplanes at the Speedway

A year after the National Balloon Race, the Speedway played host to another display of the cutting edge technology of the era. In June of 1910 Indianapolis played host to a six-day air show which included an appearance by the Wright brothers and Walter Brookins' breaking of the world record for altitude.

Another favorite photo of the track is this panoramic image showing box kite like aircraft lumbering around the oval. In the background you can see an early dirigible as well as a monoplane. The picture was taken from the south end of the track, allowing a view of the beginnings of the pits and the fabulous pagoda on the front stretch, but what I find amazing is the lack of separation between the track and the spectators.

The wonderful site The First Super Speedway has a day-by-day run down of the air show's events and links to Indianapolis Star articles of the era in case you want to read up.

Colorado

Dear Reader,

Lafayette Colorado, a suburb of Denver and part of the run-up to the Rockies. If you haven’t guessed, I’m on another business trip. I’ve been on the road since July 12th and it’s been a tough one. Starting with an airline without a flight crew and ending with a cancelled flight and boarding passes that won’t print from the hotel business center. Road fatigue has set in and there’s no place I’d rather be than home right now.

The whole thing has been hours of meetings followed up with the traditional dining in restaurants and trading horror stories. None of the participants in this ritual really know one another and it’s not really about human relationship. This is akin to territorial displays, if we were peacocks we’d be flaring and shaking our tail feathers. The oldest or boldest win the day and the rest are relegated to listening and providing the obligatory laughter. The tab goes to the company and we stumble back to our hotel rooms to prepare to do it all again when the sun comes up.

I’ve decided I’m not a good group traveler. Outside of my wife and cat, I prefer the company of a good GPS system. Coordinating travel through the modern American airport is something akin to arranging peace talks in the Middle East. As I said, my first flight was delayed two hours because someone forgot it wouldn’t fly itself and my flight home already has been cancelled forcing a radical reroute. Imagine trying to target hitting the receiving airport in tune with three other travelers so that you can share a rental car. I believe I would rather have do it yourself dentistry.

There also are the quirks to deal with. I’m all for individuality – writing would be a very dull affair if every human being on the planet had a nice, level personality without irritating habits and grating tendencies. I will say that these oddities are a lot easier to tolerate when you have some emotional connection with the oddity’s owner. When you’re travelling for business the quirks become an irritating nucleus that’ll never morph into a pearl. However, at the end of the trip when you’re shut into your hotel room on that last night before the flight out, the absence of those irritations become a sort of vacuum. You’re left with your fatigue, longing for home, and the throbbing of the elevator down the hall and somehow that feels – empty.

On my last trip I wrote chapters. This time I’ve only got a few paragraphs and a little editing to show for myself. At three in the morning I head back into the whirlwind of the airport with the happy knowledge the turmoil will deliver me home again. In the meantime I can only pray for clear skies and no middle row seats.

Proper Air Travel

Correction

Dear Reader,

All of us make mistakes and I believe the best thing we can do when we recognize a mistake is to own that error. To that end, I have an error to admit. It isn't a tragic one. It isn't a substantial one. Instead its one of those bungles of the brain - the type where you deftly explain your reasoning and conclusions only to realize much later that you didn't have the question quite right.

Yesterday, when I wrote about traveling by train, I made a bit of a mistake on the fare information. In actuality, the price for travelling by train with a bedroom works out to be over $600 round trip. I neglected to include a return trip in my original estimated price. I also realized that the comparison wasn't exactly of the old apples vs. apples variety - my plane ticket was coach and my train estimates were definitely first class. To rectify this I performed a quick fare estimate with Delta Airlines for a flight leaving on November 8, 2009 and returning November 11, 2009 and I came up with a cost of $1100.00 round trip. Also I didn't realize that meals are included with your fare when you book a bedroom with your train trip.

What it comes down to is you're buying time when you fly. If time is what you need (or something you don't have to spare) air travel is your bag. If you have time for a more gentile trip (and its within your budget) I recommend the train.

Yours Most Sincerely

- G

An Addendum on Traveling

Dear Reader,

This morning, after a short nap of nine hours, I had an opportunity to read my last missive about traveling. I think it could best be described as downtrodden. Maybe spending too much time alone in a hotel room is apt to put anyone in a bleak kind of mood - that is unless it's a hotel on some sun-blessed shore with good music and warm starry nights. Then again, I guess if you're in your room long enough instead of out somewhere dancing and enjoying good company, well you'd probably be depressed in Bali Hai. I guess the point is, I don't want to come down on the wrong side of travelling because I really like to travel. Well, at least somewhat.

It seems at the moment travelling has kind of run down hill and, at the moment, is lying in a ditch waiting for an ambulance to arrive. I'm old enough to remember a time before the major airlines started knocking on congress' door with a cup and cart of apples, so I remember a time before the airlines cut costs by eliminating service. Ah, yes, the times before every plane was packed to the overhead bins, before passengers and ungulates had a shared understanding of the trip to the slaughterhouse. At present there are two trips a day from Indianapolis International Airport to Dulles - one departs at 6AM and the other arrives at 11PM. Any enjoyment in between would seem to be of the delirious, bleary-eyed sort. Add to this the fact that the major airlines have steadily decreased space for passengers and gotten progressively worse at making schedule and you've a good idea of why travel (business travel) can be distinctly unpleasant by its very nature.

So, what's a fellow to do? We're all prisoners of the Airlines, aren't we? The simple answer is no, we are not - so long as we have time, that is. We're prisoners of our schedules, when we adapt and make our schedules adaptable a great number of opportunities present themselves.

I give you my schedule for my latest business trip to Virginia: Depart Monday morning, arrive Monday afternoon, shuttle to the rental counter, pace the hotel lobby and sleep on an uncomfortable bed, go to work over the course of three days, return Thursday evening, delayed by the airlines, and finally arrive back home in time to welcome Friday morning which was already an hour old by the time I parked in my driveway. Total cost, $414.00 plus rental car and meals with all the health benefits of drinking a slurry of catsup and salt.

Now, I present an option:

You can catch an Amtrak from Indianapolis to Chicago Union Station and then on to Washington DC, a seventeen hour jaunt on train with a 2 adult bedroom car, for $366.50. On-train meals won't cost any more than they do in an airport and if you bring a deck of cards and maybe a good friend you can make a rolling party of the jaunt. Grabbing a rental at Union Station isn't a problem since the rental car agency (at least the one I use) has a desk in the train station. GPS will get you from the station to the hotel in barely more time than it took to drive from Dulles.

The difference is obvious - 17 hours. Think of my trip, though. If I would have left Sunday Evening I could have ridden through the night and arrived Monday morning and probably wound up at my hotel earlier than I did by flying. Not to mention the sights between Indianapolis and DC, the off chance of meeting a few colorful people, with a wireless account I could have worked from my bedroom, or if I wanted I could have gotten a few chapters of my next novel written. And all for the cost of 17 hours trundling along on the rails - it's worth considering.

Yours in Sharing the Rails,

- G