Chapter 2: Jillian McGee

March 14th, 1995, 1:03 PM; Mile 10; Crossing Portal Bridge into Penn Station Newark, NJ

George entered “Silver Restaurant” to find that it was aligned incorrectly, with the hallway facing the sleeping cars, rather than the dining area facing the sleeper. That was still a common occurrence in those days, before ADA became so ironclad. Marching to the diminishing clattering and shaking as the train pulled in to the gorgeous Newark Pennsylvania Station, he went through the narrow hallway with brown industrial carpeted walls.

As the train came to a stop he emerged from the hallway into the pantry and waited to be seated. The decor of the train car was typical of Heritage Amtrak. Browns with browns with browns, vinyl booth dinettes, and a general sense of institutional seventies. The tables were still set with crisply positioned linens, still presented with orderly precision, and still decorated with fresh and colorful flowers. The railroad dining car tradition was still quite alive.

The scents of food being freshly prepared wafted from the kitchen and he felt his stomach lightly grumble at the prospect of having another delicious meal aboard an Amtrak train- hopefully with the company to go with it. The sounds of the kitchen highlighted the still fully staffed nature of the food preparation. He looked around at the tables and noticed they were either empty or full- as such, he didn’t yet see his dining partners.

Just then, a neatly uniformed waiter walked up to him with a broad, toothy grin. The smile was more friendly than simply professional, but that was to be expected- as was often the case, George personally knew the man, whose name was Jim.

“George! Man, it’s great to see you again!” said Jim, sticking out his hand.

“Jim!” George said, shaking the man’s hand, “How you been, bud?”

“Oh, life ain’t been too bad,” said Jim, “What puts you on the train this time?”

“Believe it or not I graduated from High School six months early,” George said, “So I’m on my way to college- I got into UCLA, so I’m catching the Chief to L.A. tomorrow.”

“Leave it to the Caldwell clan to take a train from New York to L.A.” Jim grinned, as he lead him to an empty booth, “This way, George.”

As George slid into the booth, the train started moving with a jolt.

“Who’s the chef today?” George asked.

“Oh, you’ll be glad to know it’s Amos,” Jim smiled as George’s eyes brightened. Amos belonged at a five-star restaurant, not on an Amtrak train. George had eaten food from Amos’s kitchen many times, and thought he was among the finest chefs on all of Amtrak, and other places, too.

George looked around. Jim was known for the tight ship he ran in his dining cars. In addition to the spotless white starched linens, the cutlery practically gleamed in the light, and everything was arranged neatly. Only the carpeted brown walls and austere fittings reminded one this was the Amtrak era, and not that of a flagship early streamliner.

George nodded knowingly as he settled himself in the seat. As Jim went to seat another set of sleeping car passengers, a waitress George did not know led a family of three over to his booth, a middle aged man, a younger woman who some might call attractive, and a stunningly attractive girl of about 14 years age.

George always had a gift for reading people, what kind of person they were, how wealthy they were, and so on. To George, the man looked like an abusive but easily manipulated jerk- but, also a person of some means. The expensive designer clothing, the shiny Breitling Chronomat, the gold jewelry, and the arrogant disposition all pointed to that. This was bolstered by the similarly expensive ensemble the woman was wearing, and further backed up by her carriage; that of a selfish bitch who wanted everything her way- and usually got it.

The girl that was with them was obviously with the party, but also ... not with the party. Her carriage was almost as if she didn’t relate to them at all. She seemed much nicer, with a strange mixture of intelligence, melancholy, and humor. Further supporting George’s hypothesis, the girl didn’t look all that closely related genetically. She had a sort of oppositional comportment relative to them ... and she somehow also gave off the vibe of looking trapped.

George was mildly surprised as the man barged his way directly across from him, and the woman pompously slid next to the man. This left their early teenager to sit next to a total stranger, which she did so gladly. It is customarily abnormal to have two adults side-by-side and seat their child across and next to a total stranger. Still, this seemed to be to the preference of all involved, even though it further set off alarm bells in George’s wheelhouse/

“Hi, I’m George.” George said with a smile.

Both adults ignored his greeting, looking at his relatively inexpensive clothing from The Bon Ton with the scorn only the truly stuck up can manage. The girl, though, looked at him with interest and friendliness, not to mention a wisdom well beyond her apparent age. George suspected she had a hard childhood.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Jill.”

The woman glared at Jill, which irritated George. But, he thought, you get more with honey than vinegar.

“Hi, Jill,” he smiled, then looking at the adults, “So, what’s your names?”

When they didn’t answer, he continued. “Hey, we are gonna be eating lunch together, so we might as well chat. It would be unseemly for me to be saying, ‘Hey, Lady,’ and ‘Hey, man,’ so what are your names?”

“I’m Justin,” the man curtly monotoned.

“I’m Krista,” the woman mimicked.

“Well,” Jill said, “I’m really glad my aunt and uncle can show you their bright and sunny disposition so clearly.”

“Don’t be fresh,” Justin growled.

“Would you rather her be rotten?” George smiled, almost letting a “Like you” hang unspoken in the air like the smoke from a cigarette.

“Where are you headed?” Jill asked brightly.

“I’m on my way to college, graduated high school early,” George said. “Where you going?”

“To my brother-in-law’s house to unload a problem,” the man growled, looking pointedly at Jill.

Whoof! thought George, These people are a real piece of work!

“In Chicago,” Krista added, “So are you going to University of Chicago?”

“No, UCLA,” George said, “I’m catching the Southwest Chief to L.A. tomorrow afternoon.”

“Doesn’t the trip take you like, three days? Why not fly?” Krista asked, somewhat shocked.

At least I’ve got them talking, George thought.

“I don’t fly. I ride the train. Always. My parents conceived me while riding the train. My parents met on that train, actually. Were married on it, too. I have travelled my entire life by train or, when necessary bus,” he smiled.

“How’d that happen?” Krista asked as the waiter approached to take their orders,

“Jim,” George asked, “Could you have Amos make me his famous mega burger?”

“You mean the one with the huge spiced patty, the cheddar cheese, goat’s cheese, and bacon?” Jim asked.

“No, I meant the other one.”

“You are incorrigible,” Jim said, “but of course he will, as you well know.”

The other three placed their orders, with Jill asking if she could have the same thing as George minus the goat’s cheese.

“So, you wanted to know how that happened?” George began, “Well, my father was the line manager for the Super Chief and then the Southern Crescent and then he retired. He was going to visit a friend in Detroit on the Niagara Rainbow when he met my mom in the dining car.”

“Fascinating,” Jill said, “So you can really meet people on trains for the long haul, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely,” George said, looking at Jill and having a sudden feeling that he hoped she was an example of that herself. He didn’t know why he had that sudden thought, but he did.

As they were talking, the delicious meals arrived, smelling wonderful. They all started to eat, with George digging into the juicy, rare-cooked burger with relish. George was of the general opinion that the best way to cook a cow was to lead it through a warm room, butcher it, and serve it. Burgers should be cooked very rare- steaks should be lightly brown and served raw in the middle.

“Anyway,” George said between bites of the burger, “they hit a big semi-truck just out of Albany and lost their engine, and the trip went downhill from there. The train just didn’t seem to catch any breaks. The train ended up being a full 18 hours late. With all that extra time to talk and get to know each other, they fell in love. Stuff happened, and, well they got married on that train after conceiving me. They’ve been together ever since.”