The sunset just west of Meridian, Mississippi, glowed fiery-orange, the sky draped with wisps of pink clouds above a silhouette of treetops and geometric rooflines. It was an award-winning photograph, I thought, but couldn\u2019t find the right angle for the shot through the window of my train compartment.<\/p>\n
I contented myself with simply enjoying the scene\u00a0\u2014 one among so many as the kinetic panorama of the South passed by. I began to consider it an old lady\u2019s version of video entertainment.<\/p>\n
As a child in the 1950s, I often rode the fabled Illinois Central roundtrip between New Orleans and Memphis to visit my grandparents, and on to Chicago in the summers. Since then, however, I\u2019d become a devoted frequent flyer, replacing long overnight train rides with air travel.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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<\/p>\n A room aboard The Crescent train.\u00a0<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n When my anxiety about flying home from Washington, D.C., flared during the government shutdown, I wondered if there might be train service home instead.<\/p>\n Which is how I found myself ensconced for 27 hours aboard The Crescent from Union Station in Washington to Union Passenger Terminal in New Orleans, aboard the latest iteration of a passenger rail service that has run the New Orleans-to-New York route since 1925.<\/p>\n I booked my reservation through the Amtrak website and sought the most comfortable possible accommodation\u00a0\u2014 a \u201croom\u201d rather than a \u201croomette\u201d or a coach seat. The room was a bit pricier, but I wanted to have a private bathroom. I was also entitled to four meals and a glass of wine with dinners.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n The little metal homebase inside of Room B, Car 1910, was mine.<\/p>\n A heavy sliding glass door opened from the hallway into the L-shaped compartment. The door was backed with a navy, pleated curtain that Velcroed to each side for privacy. Seating was on a comfortable blue bench that made up into the bed.\u00a0<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Mary Ann Sternberg stayed in Room B, Car 1910, on The Crescent train ride.<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n The upper berth included railed spaces for storage, plus small windows for viewing the passing scenery while still under the covers. There were two closets, a small sink and a metal storage cabinet. A sliding door to the next compartment, locked for me, would have offered easy access to the adjoining room if family or friends traveled with me.<\/p>\n Justin, the\u00a0attendant assigned to my car,\u00a0told me that the staff, save conductors and engineers, were based in New Orleans and worked round trips \u2014 sometimes back-to-back, other times with several days between runs.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Not long after we eased out of Washington into the night, Justin presented me with the menu for our trip, including breakfast, lunch and dinner choices. I could eat either in the dining car at a selected time or have meals delivered to my room. I chose the former.<\/p>\n The dining car was contiguous to my car 1910, so I had only swaying gangway connection to pass \u2014 that familiar balancing challenge between train cars.<\/p>\n Overall, though, the entire trip was quite smooth \u2014 rocking, rather than bumpy, with the occasional lurch that produced metallic-sounding jolts and clacks. Even in my compartment the rattle and clicks of the metal components were not intrusive. Even the frequent blares of our horn came as muted.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n <\/p>\n Justin, the attendant assigned to Mary Ann Sternberg’s car on her trip\u00a0aboard The Crescent from Union Station in Washington to Union Passenger Terminal in New Orleans.<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n The dining car combined the heritage train dining I remembered with a fast food ethos: white tablecloths on the table overlaid white paper place mats, real stainless flatware wrapped in navy cloth napkins and vases of red and white carnations on each table. But the food was prepackaged, served in plastic containers that had been microwaved in the small galley.<\/p>\n For my first dinner, I ordered salmon. It came in a tasty sauce with rice, vegetables and a small salad, along with\u00a0a warm roll.\u00a0The entr\u00e9e was good enough that I ordered it again the next night.<\/p>\n When I returned from dinner, Justin had made up my room \u2014 the lower berth ready, the upper berth down so I could heave my suitcase upon it, so as not to command too much of the minimal floor space in the dark.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n The bed was comfortable so that when Justin knocked at my door at 8 a.m. to ask if I was going to breakfast, he surprised me. I\u2019d just been lolling under the covers, looking out of the windows.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The engine on the\u00a0The Crescent train from Union Station in Washington to Union Passenger Terminal in New Orleans.<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n When I sat down in the dining car, I talked across the aisle with Bernard,\u00a0formerly Navy according to his jacket emblem, who was also dining alone. His wife had remained in D.C. with family, he said, but he was ready to get home to his acreage outside Meridian that his family had proudly owned since the 1890s.<\/p>\n The Crescent stopped in Atlanta long enough for long-distance passengers to step off for fresh air and a short walk. I took advantage of all such stops.<\/p>\n At Birmingham,\u00a0I strolled to the front of the train to see The Crescent\u2019s two sleek engines, nose to tail, and also found our two engineers. They explained that five, two-person teams divide up the route from New York to New Orleans. They also noted that, while our train can reach a speed of 79 miles per hour on straight track, more often we are slowed by curves and traffic.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n The day aboard passed happily. I ate, slept, read, chatted on the phone and spent an inordinate amount of time looking out of the windows.<\/p>\n Fall color splotched the forests all the way into southern Mississippi. We sped through tiny towns with lines of old, redbrick storefronts facing the tracks and past churches, warehouses, industrial sites, fields and ravines.\u00a0<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A sunset in Meridian, Mississippi, while taking the\u00a0The Crescent from Union Station in Washington to Union Passenger Terminal in New Orleans.<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n
\n BY MARY ANN STERNBERG | Contributing writer<\/span>
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\n <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\nRoom B, Car 1910<\/h3>\n
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\n BY MARY ANN STERNBERG | Contributing writer<\/span>
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\n <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\nA smooth trip\u00a0<\/h3>\n
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\n BY MARY ANN STERNBERG | Contributing writer<\/span>
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\n <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\nStopping for air\u00a0\u2014 and to see the engines<\/h3>\n
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\n BY MARY ANN STERNBERG | Contributing writer<\/span>
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\n <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\nSpotting history\u00a0<\/h3>\n
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