I was on 30 this past August, and as I was bringing a few bags, a guitar, amplifier, and some recording equipment, I opted for a family bedroom. The people in the room next to mine (roomette 14) had misconnected from the previous day's Zephyr or Chief, and were quite cheery despite having spent the previous night in a roach-infested Kankakee (or Homewood) motel, courtesy of Amtrak. The woman noticed I had a guitar, and asked numerous questions about my music.
"Oh, we're a musical family," she said, referring to herself and the son with whom she occupied the roomette. "I absolutely love to sing. Would you like to hear something?"
Before I had time to respond, she was telling her 11-year-old son to sing with her. He, totally immersed in his Nintendo DS game, issued a whine that suggested he was not interested in singing.
"Do it," the mother said, her words somewhere between a coax and a demand.
"I don't want to, mom," the boy pleaded.
The mother gave her son a stern look and commanded him to sing a Russian hymn with her in two-part harmony, throughout much of which the kid blushed and rolled his eyes. Toward the end, he looked like he was about ready to die of embarassment. (On a side note, I am extremely grateful that my mother never made me sing for strangers.) They sang incredibly well together, but it was a really strange situation. I felt bad for the kid.
The woman told me that she and her son were missionaries for the Russian Orthodox Church, and that they were coming from some conference in Alaska or New Mexico, or something. I now understood why she and her son were singing in Russian, despite the fact that neither seemed to speak it.
Then the train left CHI.
The mother asked (or interrogated) me about my childhood and my life plans, and five minutes out of CHI, I'm sure she knew my life story. She then told me hers, which was quite interesting (though I must admit I hadn't asked, and was perplexed as to why she was telling me at all). She showed me a walking stick she had made, and explained to me the ways in which the stick was connected to God.
When the first dinner seating was called, the pair stood up to go to the diner. The mother insisted (quite seriously) that I had to eat with them, regardless of my reservation time. She was nice and the situation was pretty entertaining, so I decided I'd go with them. We encountered a fantastic diner crew (by far the best I've ever had), so naturally conversation turned to our impressions of Amtrak. We sat in our booth for almost two hours, talking about many things. Over desert, the woman told us about past abusive boyfriends for three or four minutes. Then, for an uplifting change of pace, she told us about the death of her son's father, a member of the armed services, and the best man she's ever known. Her son didn't seem at all comfortable during this part of the conversation.
The fourth person at our table then talked about his ex-wife for what felt like an eternity. He spoke of how she used to throw kitchen appliances at him, and how one day she lost it and stabbed him. He told us he was considering torching her car. He wasn't joking.
After dinner, we returned to our rooms. There was some question as to whether the mother and son would be able to stay in their room all the way to Pittsburgh, and the mother asked me if she and her son would be welcome in my family room. I said yes, assuming she was joking. When the conductor came through to speak with the mother, she (the mother) told the conductor that if things didn't work, it was okay, because she and her son could just stay in my room. She was not joking.
Fortunately, the passenger who booked the woman's roomette CLE-WAS was able to be moved to another roomette.
Throughout the evening, I got to hear about the woman's spirit being set free. She told me she had embraced religion, and was using it to turn her life around. And then she told me everything again.
Every time she left the room—to go to the bathroom, to go to the lounge, etc.—her son would come into my room. It was pretty awkward.
Weird experience, though the people were nice, and I enjoyed the trip more than I've enjoyed any other Amtrak trip.
Nicest lady, but batsh•t crazy.
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