After I rode on a delayed train from New York to Washington, D.C., I received perhaps my favorite ‘give-me-another-chance’ note of all time.
After I rode on a delayed train from New York to Washington, D.C., this past Monday, I received perhaps my favorite “give-me-another-chance” note of all time:
Dear Kayla,
We apologize for the delay you experienced while traveling with us on train 93 on 10/2/2023. We know a delay like this can cause inconvenience to your travel plans and understand your time is valuable. We know we can do better and hope that you will give us another chance to prove that Amtrak® is the smarter way to travel.
Thank you for being a valued Amtrak customer and we hope to see you aboard again soon.
Sincerely,
Kevin McClafferty
Senior Director, Sales & Customer Service
Kevin, I can’t break up with you, no matter how much I want to — and you know this well. You help run a government-subsidized, incompetent monopoly that offers just about the only option of long-distance train travel in the United States of America.
This is like a drunken, abusive husband in the Middle Ages telling his wife, the morning after a particularly heinous rage, that he “knows he can do better” and hopes she doesn’t leave him. Where else can she go? She can’t get a divorce or a job, it’s 1183! She’s stuck with him!
What happened to the grandeur of train travel, Kevin? Why can’t American trains be fast like Japan’s or timely like Switzerland’s? Amtrak trains are reliably unreliable, they smell like hot dogs dipped in burnt coffee, and they often cost more than the same journey by plane. This is an embarrassment to American ingenuity. I am sure railroad tycoons like James J. Hill and Cornelius Vanderbilt are turning in their graves.
I should also mention, Kevin, you glossed over a lot in your apology. Particularly, you failed to mention that I’ve endured far, far worse from you than a one-hour delay from NY to WAS.
Years ago, on a train from Newark, N.J., to New Haven, Conn., I encountered Rothian hell on the Northeast Regional. I was returning to Yale’s campus after winter break — having flown into Newark from the Great Midwest, the train ride to New Haven was the last leg of my long journey. (As a college student, I naturally booked the cheapest tickets, which meant I was scheduled to arrive in New Haven late at night as it was.)
It was a particularly frigid night — the air was lung-numbing. Somewhere, around White Plains, N.Y., the aluminum tube in which I sat creaked to a halt. The lights went out. Cold, black dark covered all. The hum of the engine dissipated. The train, full of holiday travelers, was packed to the brim. Nervous chuckles and frightened whispers echoed through the car. The temperature inside the train began to drop below freezing, as exhales condensed. Only silence emanated from the loudspeaker. And there we sat, in frozen unease, and there we waited. And waited. An hour at least. Panic slowly curled its tentacles around my fellow chilled passengers.
At last, authority figures emerged — cops boarded the train, patrolling the cars up and down telling everyone to stay calm. By and by, we learned what was going on — the engine died, we were stranded, and we were going to have to board a rescue train on the neighboring track.
When the other train finally arrived and pulled up alongside ours, every single passenger, with luggage in hand, crossed onto the new train at a single pinch point. A large, brawny man, standing between the tracks, was holding a wide plank above his head in the style of Samson — our sturdy bridge between the open doors of the two trains. After the last passenger boarded, we were off. The sun had nearly dawned by the time I made it back to New Haven, having mumbled curses against monopolies all the way.
I hope I live to see the day of the renaissance of American train travel — until then, I encourage readers to share their favorite Amtrak horror stories in the comments below.