shelter of a Nissan Maxima instead of an eave for the fifteen minutes it took my bus to arrive.

The blue and white Amtrak California motor coach arrived right on time, and at 12:45am I was on my way to Oakland. The bus was maybe half full, which I think is a lot of people for a midnight bus. I found a seat and got settled in. It wasn't nearly the luxury bus Amtrak provided when snow forced a road trip from Seattle to Spokane a few years ago. It was in good shape, but legroom was lacking. When you're over six feet tall and most of that is leg, the distance between the back of the seat in front of you and the seat cushion you're sitting on is an important dimension.

I slept most of the way to San Jose. I don't even remember stopping in King City or Salinas on this trip. As we left San Jose, a woman behind me asked if we were in San Francisco. Remembering my last trip on this bus ("A Ride To New York"), I explained that we would cross the Oakland Bay Bridge into the city from the east. But once we headed out of San Jose, we took Interstate 280 up the west side of the bay to San Francisco, making a liar out of me.

Once we crossed the Oakland Bay Bridge out of San Francisco, we came into Oakland. There was a one hour layover where I wandered around the train station. From there I hopped a fifteen minute ride on an Amtrak commuter train to the next stop of Emeryville. I think the wait in Emeryville was another hour or two, then the California Zephyr pulled into the depot to pick up the first group of passengers traveling east to Chicago and all points between.

The last two cars on the train, being closest to the station door, had lines of people at their doors waiting to board. Always one to walk a little instead of waiting in a line I skipped ahead to car 610. It was the first coach car, located just behind the lounge. Small random decisions can have a big effect on life. I climbed upstairs and after my quick check for available power outlet seats showed they were both taken, I took a seat three rows forward of the stairs. Across the asile was a woman traveling alone and there was someone behind me, but I didn't pay too much attention to them. I was tired from a long bus ride with little sleep. I fell asleep almost as soon as the train started moving.

I woke up as we were crossing the bridge into Sacramento. There, we picked up a volunteer from the State Railway Museum who would narrate the Sierra Nevada portion of the trip. As we passed Roseville and headed into the mountains,
she explained a little of the history of the area.

I was getting hungry. I got up to get something from the lounge, but before heading out I started chatting with the woman across from me. Her name was Patti, and we got to talking a bit about the usual stuff. I told her a little about my job, she mentioned that she was a musician and that she edited books.

After grabbing some food, I returned to my seat to find that we picked up a passenger in Colfax who had taken the seat beside mine. I looked up at his seat tag. He was a good person to have sitting next to me. He was only going as far as Reno so I'd most likely have both seats to myself overnight. He was reading a two-inch thick novel.

I struggled with the plastic covering my microwave hot wings. The lounge attendant, Rafael, had sliced the plastic so it would vent in the microwave, but no amount of tugging would get the top opened any farther. I finally surrendered and pulled my food out as best I could with two fingers.

When the California Zephyr left Emeryville, nobody could have expected what was to come.
February 2008 | 5