I’m sure the lovely three million, plus legal (and countless more illegal) citizens of Los Angeles would like to know why I’m suggesting they stop driving altogether so suddenly. Well, it’s because Andrew, someone who has said on countless occasions that driving is for other people to do for him while he sits in the back, is driving between the University of Spoiled Children and the land of the purse dog, expressionless faces and people made famous from sex scandals multiple times each week from now until May. This is also scary for another reason: Andrew has only driven a few times (if y’all recall, I have let him drive my car on more than one occasion, but there were barely any other cars on the road and he didn’t drive on heavily trafficked roads). To comply with that stupid hands-free law in Califronia (I’m sorry, but it makes us all look like we’re mentally unstable if we appear to all be talking aimlessly to no one), I’ve sent him my BlueTooth headset since I never use the thing and clearly won’t need it in Italy. While in LA for the semester, Andrew is interning for ICM, a talent agency that represents such stars as Frank Langella, Beyoncé and Woody Allen. The only problem I have with Andrew spending the semester in LA is that instead of being six hours ahead of him, which is what I would be if he were back in Durham, I’m now going to be nine hours ahead of the only person I know who actually gets eight hours of sleep at night. Therefore, the only time we can talk is at the end of the day, which has already been an adjustment since he’s been in LA for two weeks.
Since our last “chat,” (I feel like that’s the write word to call these posts, since I do know most of the people reading them) I have left Florida, but not after some final moments of fun! I made it down to Miami (yes Will Smith, in the city where the heat is on, all night on the beach till the break of dawn) to see my friend, Monique, after only three and a half years since last seeing each other, in Coconut Grove, where we had a great French lunch. From there, it was off to the Bal Harbour Shops to pick up a little something “special” for Grace and a birthday present for Dr. No (of all the evil villain/Soviet Premier/Dictator names I have given him, that one is the most fitting I think). Y’all, that place is just scary because while Palm Beach is just the land of the WASPS where Worth Avenue has all the glitz and glam of yesteryear with old money, Bal Harbour Shops screams “I just sold a kilo of coke and have to get the money out somehow so what better way than through Dolce & Gabbanna underwear and Prada suits.” The people there don’t buy one thing at a time; instead, they take my grandmother’s rule of buying in bulk, which is done exclusively at Costco, to a level that is simply obscene. Though the absolute highlight of the trip to Bal Harbour was when a five-year-old kid looked at my watch and went, “oh, that’s so cheap.” It was a low point in my life knowing that a child sixteen years younger than I had a watch that was probably three times as expensive as mine, which was not cheap I might add.
Following that little arrogant child’s remark, I drove down to South Beach to spend the evening my Rachel, who was in town for the weekend with her dad and brothers. While I already knew that one never has a dull moment when going out with Rachel, little did I know what would be in store for me. First, we headed to the South Beach outpost of Danny Myer’s hugely successful Shake Shack. We sat outside in the cool evening eating burgers and fries while I introduced Rachel to my love, Loni Love, on my iPod. From there, we strolled up and down the always-exciting Lincoln Road and wandered into a rather eclectic vintage shop. While there, Rachel tried on a very revealing (not sure if that’s the word that properly describes it, but that’s the word I’m sticking with) corset, while I tried on an old Burberry’s rain hat. Then things got kinky when Rachel tried to get me to try on this:
In case you’re not sure as to what it is, let me fill you in: it’s a pair of leather shorts with zippers on either side of the crotch for “easy access.” While the thought of wearing leather shorts was an immediate turn off, what really grossed me out was the fact that someone’s gentiles had touched that entire thing and that’s not exactly something I would want to put on, while still wearing my pants, and maybe a hazmat suit.
As the day in Miami came to a close, I was then faced with the realization that my stay in Florida was also coming to an end and the arduous task of returning to Virginia was fast approaching. The question was how to get home because Dr. No was saying hell no to driving, mother was not prepared mentally to do the trip again and neither would allow me to do it alone, which is perfectly understandable. So, my options were as follows: leave the Audi and everything that couldn’t fit into my suitcases and do the drive back to Virginia in May, convince mother that the Audi had to come home immediately and force her to take the drive with me or the hail marry pass: let me take the Auto Train (LINK) home. Amazingly, she gave in and let me do the Auto Train, but only after going through a list of about two-hundred reasons as to why it’s not safe/why I’ll get shot onboard. The list was so long that my initial departure date of Tuesday, the 10th of January, was pushed back to Wednesday because a certain someone was going absolutely insane over the fact that I would even consider this option. Yet, on Wednesday, the trip was approved and after a brief stop in Winter Park to see Justin and my friend, Jackie, it was a twenty-minute drive up to Sanford to board the train to Virginia.
Unlike traditional Amtrak trains, which could use a huge revamp in order to better compete with the great railways of Europe, the Auto Train is essentially its own separate railroad within the mighty Amtrak. The people who work on the train only work on the Auto Train, the stations are exclusively for the Auto Train and the entire experience is one that can only be found on the Auto Train. Despite being located in a rather grimy, somewhat dilapidated area, the Sanford departure point is actually very convenient because of its close proximity to Orlando. Once you arrive, you’re car is issued a number which is used to identify it upon arrival in Lorton. From there, it’s straight to the valet who takes your car from that point on while you and the two bags per person that you’re allowed to take with you head inside the recently renovated terminal for check-in. They’re very strict about time and anyone not checked-in for the train by 15h0 is not allowed to board because they have to position the auto cars onto the track and connect them to the passenger cars for an on time departure. I booked a roomette, which seats two people without a bathroom, but offers the privacy that an ordinary seat doesn’t offer. Plus, with the roomette and cabins, you get a real bed at night to sleep in, which I was told means you actually get to sleep by my fellow passengers at the pre-departure wine and cheese tasting in the lounge car. My sleeping car attendant, David, welcomed me aboard and showed me to my upper roomette and told me when dinner would be served. Then, about ten minutes ahead of schedule, we pulled out of a nippy Florida and began our sixteen-hour, thirty-minute journey to Lorton, which is located in Northern Virginia.
About two hours into the ride, dinner was served in the dining car on china and white linen tablecloths. I was seated with two other passengers in my car who were also traveling alone in roomettes and were much more experienced in traveling aboard the Auto Train than I was. For dinner, I had the Beef Tenderloin with a baked potato and steamed vegetables followed by a massive chocolate cake with the biggest scoop of vanilla ice cream I have ever seen in my life. While the food well exceeded all my expectations, the wine wasn’t exactly the greatest on earth. In fact, I opted out of having any at dinner because I was so disappointed from the wine in the pre-departure wine and cheese tasting. By the time I returned to my cabin, the sun had set and so I changed into my pajamas (yes, I wear pajamas) as we zipped through Georgia. Unaware of the movie being shown on the train, I rented Annie Hall on iTunes, which was good because the projector wasn’t working that night. Around 21h30, David came to make up my bed for the evening. Just before closing my eyes, I remember peeking out of my curtain to see a sign that said Charleston, South Carolina on it.
Despite being a very smooth ride, I ironically woke up three times during the night because we had stopped moving; once because by law, the engineers can only work twelve hour shifts and had to be changed out in Florence, South Carolina of all places (so ironic because that’s where we usually stay when making the drive down), and the other two times because we had to let a CSX train pass (CSX owns the rail lines on which Amtrak operates in the South and therefore they have seniority). At 6h15 and somewhere just outside of Richmond, the conductor made his first announcement saying that breakfast was being served on a first-come, first-serve basis and that we were an hour ahead of schedule. The mood in the dining car was a bit more subdued than at dinner as not everyone was fully awake.
When I returned from my continental breakfast that included juice, coffee, assorted muffins/bagels, and cereal, my roomette was already made up for seating again. I opted out of taking a shower as I didn’t have any shower sandals to wear, but someone with whom I sat at breakfast said it was very relaxing and kind of neat, which I imagine it is. Then, at 8h30 on the dot, our journey came to an end as we pulled into the Lorton station. Within a matter of minutes, the journey ended and I was faced with the fact that it was no longer 57 and sunny outside. Instead, it was more like 29 and cloudy; I immediately considered just taking the train back to Florida and not leaving for another week. But just as I thought of doing that, my car’s number was called and two minutes later, I was on I-95 South headed for home.
Despite costing around $400 with the emergency insurance, which mother insisted I have in case the people at the station seemed “sketchy,” the trip wasn’t that much more expensive than driving once you factor in the stops for food, gas and the hotel. Plus, there’s much less wear-and-tear on your car and your body. Looking back on the experience, there were a few things I will be doing differently this coming December when I take the train south this time. For starters, I’ll pack much less food because Grace saw the wrong menu online and feared for the worst. Next, I’ll have my bed made up earlier so I can get to sleep sooner because the train does lull you to sleep quite easily. Next time, I’ll definitely bring my own travel pillow because the one provided by Amtrak was a bit too hard for my liking, and finally, I will definitely bring shower sandals so I can bathe while onboard a train
On the whole, the trip exceeded all my wildest expectations and was one of the most amazing experiences I have ever had in my life. Everyone from David, my cabin attendant, to the server in the dining car who told a man at breakfast to eat more than a muffin because she was going to have to drive on I-95 as well and didn’t want him on that road without a real meal made the trip so memorable, as did the people I met along the way. The conversations with these fellow passengers, despite their vagueness in order to not give too much of one’s personal life away to complete strangers, was genuinely interesting. One of the two people with whom I had dinner told us about the log cabin he had built for his now late-wife and of the experience he had building it. The other person at the table started us on a twenty-minute chat about our dogs and how we love them so. Sure it was fluff, but it was interesting nonetheless. I highly recommend the Auto Train to anyone who doesn’t feel like driving to Florida, being raped by the TSA or to anyone who wants to experience a way of travel that to many has long since been forgotten.
My time home was spent visiting my grandmother, seeing Grace and Annie before they left to return back to UVa, resting, and preparing myself for the upcoming semester in Italy. I did finally get to see The Social Network, and I must say that I was not impressed at all with the movie. Yes, the writing is exceptional and Aaron Sorkin is a fantastic writer, but the movie just didn’t do anything for me. I don’t know if it was the built-up hype or what, but I was not impressed at all, which I’ll admit was a bit disappointing. Grace, meanwhile, has been faced with a bit of a dilemma as her Hitler for a landlord is not thrilled with Henry Flagler’s ever-increasing size and is now on the hunt for a new residence in Charlottesville. Justin has returned to the daily grind of homework, paper and parties at Rollins, even misleading campus security into thinking he was on acid because he was running outside nearly naked looking for his phone at 4 in the morning last week. Ah, to be young and carefree…
Last night, I landed in New York and had an absolutely amazing dinner at Pastis, which even made Andrew jealous because he can’t get that delicious burger in LA! The mousse au chocolat was so rich that even I, someone who has never before not finished a desert in my life, couldn’t finish the whole thing. Plus, for wine lovers, I recommend a carafe of the pinot noir that they have by the glass because it was beyond words. This morning, I braved the below 0 with the wind chill weather for a four-mile run in the park, which was BEYOND exhilarating, despite wearing seven layers! Then I spent some time getting last minute items before heading of to MoMa for an hour where I saw this really great exhibit on kitchens from the 1940s and 1950s. It was so neat seeing the “kitchens of tomorrow” and all the very interesting innovations they had. There was also a Warhol film exhibit, but seeing a guy’s facial expressions while receiving a blow job didn’t really do a lot to get me to stay for very long.
So now, as I come to the end of this conversation while seated at Newark waiting for my flight for Rome, it has just dawned on me that the next time I sit down for one of our conversations, I’ll be in the land of wine women and song, with an emphasis on the first two, regaling y’all with tales of my journey to Italy and the start of my semester in Siena. Fino alla prossima volta…
Ciao,
-JD
PS: Congratulations to Annie and Sarah on being made members of the Tri Delta sorority at UVa!
The Yapper 
