The Second Leg

All I really need to say is that Amtrak sucks and I never want to travel with them again, but I like to go above and beyond what is necessary. I've been known to talk more than I need, and this blog will not be an alteration of the norm. Picking up where I left off (see The First Leg), the second leg of my Amtrak trip did get any better.

But just to make sure we're on the same poor customer service page :

RECAP OF THE FIRST LEG : I got on a train--that was two hours late--and was informed that there had been a derailment beyond my transfer point. I was then told I would be transferred by bus to a point beyond the derailment where I would get on another train and complete my journey.

The promised buses of deliverance were supposed to arrive at 9:30 pm but did not actually arrive until 10:30 pm. When the buses finally arrived, they began calling people up in order of their destinations. A whole slew of people lined up and filed out to the buses. A second slew followed suit about forty minutes later. My destination wasn't called until the third and final round. I lined up and was taken outside to where the buses were being loaded . . . only to find out that there wasn't sufficient room in the buses to fit everyone.

This sent me and my fellow stranded Amtrakers back to the waiting area/holding pin. We were then told that another two buses would be arriving in another other. An hour came and went. A second hour came and also went. And no one told us anything. At this point, it was nearing midnight and I was pissed off. I took my heavy carry-ons and went to the customer service counter.

The first person I spoke to was an elderly woman who was very short with me. She said the other buses would be arriving in ANOTHER hour. I asked when she was going to tell everyone who had already been waiting for two hours and then asked why they didn't order enough buses in the first place. I know I annoyed the woman, but I hope I also scared her. Either way, she didn't answer my questions. Instead, she turned around, opened a door, loudly proclaimed "We need a manager at the counter", and then disappeared. How rude!

The manager who came to the counter turned out to be a pregnant woman, and I hesitated to be so cranky with her because, well, she was heavy with child and I probably shouldn't be mean to pregant ladies--but that hesitation and consideration for mothers-to-be only lasted a second. I snapped out of it and was back to my cranky self.

The pregnat manager informed me that the higher ups in Amtrak were the ones behind the bus shortage and that the trains would not be waiting for us to arrive at the transfer point. What this meant for the rest of my trip, she couldn't tell me. I voiced my displeasure and was interrupted by a very annoying man. "I know it sucks, but, come on, man. It could be worse." he said. I replied that "The only way it could be worse is if someone came in here and shot me." The man fumbled over his words (and the people around me made very uncomfortable faces) and then he began telling me a story of how he had missed his train and how Amtrak was helping him out. I didn't want to hear any of it. I interrupted him--"That's great for you, but that's not what I'm concerned about." and then I turned back to the manager. It felt great. The man's optimism remained silent.

What happened in the end?

The two final buses that arrived (which didn't get there until 2:30 am, which meant we didn't leave until around 3:00 am) divvied up the remaining stranded people and took them to their final destinations. Although, I must say, this outcome was not certain for several hours into our bus rides. The drivers, who were third-party, didn't even know what has happening for sure. We were just heading in a general direction as our minds were tormented with concerns about our luggage and our bodies were tortured by the rough seats and close quarters that constitute a charter bus (PS -
 I went to the bathroom on the bust and when I flushed the toilet, brown, stinky water came out. It was so rank that it made me cough. I was surprised that toxic sludge hadn't eaten through the pumbling.)

When I finally arrived at my final destination at 11:00 pm, I tried to locate my baggage. As it turns out, the baggage claim closed at 8:30 pm, but that really didn't matter because the train with my luggage had not arrived! It had break problems somewhere along the line, was delayed six hours, and wouldn't arrive until 3:00 am. Break problems? Six hours? No baggage? What next? I'll tell you what next . . .

The following morning, I called the Amtrak station to see if my baggage had come in. I gave them my baggage claim numbers and waited for them to go check. When the employee returned, he had bad news. He couldn't find it, meaning it wasn't there--meaning "WHERE IS MY BICYCLE AND OTHER 250 POUNDS OF PERSONAL BELONGINGS?!" I called Amtrak and explained my situation to someone who must have been inbred and partially deaf, judging by how many times they made me repeat myself. But she couldn't have been that stupid. She called the Amtrak station and found out that my baggage was there. Apparently, the guy at the station hadn't been trained how to match numbers that he'd written down to the printed numbers on boxes.

I had a game plan of complaining and trying to get my money back since the service was so horrible that I can't help but feel swindled, but when I called Amtrak, I was told I had to write a letter to some big wig located in Washington DC. Nothing ever gets done there! Wish me luck. I think I'll mention that I have written all about Amtrak's incompetence in my blog. I hope he likes that.