We arrived an hour or so before departure at Chicago Union Station for the first leg of our ride on the California Zephyr, a 19 hour journey from Chicago to Denver. The hall was elegant, massive and felt strangely empty. We headed to the gates, only to find a line had already formed for our train. A security guard with a thick local accent directed passengers to their gate in a manner simultaneously gruff and jovial, breaking the bad news to a crestfallen teenager that he’d just missed his train.

Aboard the upstairs level of our bi-level ‘Superliner’ train, we waited for the conductor to scan our digital tickets before making a beeline for the observation car. This is where we ended up spending the majority of our time. The train passed out of the city and suburbs, and before long, we found ourselves in--surprise, surprise--endless fields of corn. I was immediately reminded of six years ago, and the many hours I spent driving through corn fields from Rock Island, Illinois, where I lived at the time, to the nearest cities such as Chicago or Madison. I would spend my weekends searching for friendship, action, excitement - basically, any reprieve from the sleepy small town that I lived in. I thought of the friends and colleagues I made while I lived there: kind, thoughtful locals who treated this Asian-Australian outsider with generosity and warmth. And while a job opportunity would eventually lead me away to Seattle and the gloomy beauty of the Pacific Northwest, at the time I’d imagined an alternate future based in Chicago.

There's something so comforting about the corn fields of the Midwest, fragile monoculture aside 

One of the more distinctive groups on our train were some Amish passengers. They quickly distinguished themselves via their expert skill and mastery of long-distance train travel. Within moments of the train departing, a younger man unveiled a hearty snack of ricotta cheese and fruit--far fresher and more nutritious than the Skittles in the café lounge. An older couple used the coach chairs’ leg support to sleep soundly, laying across both seats sideways in a fetal position. And in the observation car, a group had nabbed a full row of prime seats with tables, before launching into tabletop games featuring horses and trivia. I made out their English word answers to the trivia questions, peppered amidst their German dialect. 


Suddenly curious to know more about the Amish, I pulled up a Wikipedia page on my phone, and learned that they were originally from Switzerland, then moved in the 18th Century to Germany to flee religious persecution, before emigrating to the United States. It would have been much nicer to learn such facts by actually talking to an Amish person face-to-face--instead of reading about their history literally behind their backs--but I failed to find a good opening to broach conversation. A few days earlier, Malvin and I had been discussing my interest in intentional communities as an alternative to the isolation I fear when I imagine raising kids in the suburbs. Apparently, 90% of Amish youth choose to return to their communities following Rumspringa. I wonder how they feel about “modern” society, of our prioritizing individual freedom over traditional community. Perhaps I’ll get the chance on another trip.


This group of Amish travelers knew how to get the most out of their trip

Thankfully, I was able to strike up interesting conversation with other passengers. Not long into our journey, a man sat down across from us in eye-grabbing garb. He wore a cowboy hat, beneath which flowed long, curly grey locks, a blue flannel shirt, baggy denim overalls, cowboy boots, and to top it off, a red bow tie. He looked like a caricature of an American in a foreign children’s book, complete with his steadily growing pile of Bud Light cans. He was eager to chat, and before long we’d gotten his autobiography, delivered in a warm Southern drawl. “Jimmy” James Noles II is a country music songwriter and ‘attitude adjuster’ from Lubbock, Texas (it says so on his business card). He told us he was one of eight in his graduating class, and that he completed two degrees before returning to that same school to teach, only to decide later in life to pursue his passion for music. Apparently, Keith Urban’s management is considering one of his songs for Keith’s next album. But meanwhile, just like me, Jimmy is enjoying some time riding trains across the country on the USA Rail Pass. He was getting off at San Francisco, having just arrived in Chicago the day prior from Albuquerque on another train.


The observation, or 'sightseer' car, is where we spent most of our time on the long-haul trains


Later on that evening, after almost everyone had retired to their assigned seats for the night, we lingered in the observation car. Jimmy grew more philosophical. Maybe it was the beer talking, but he told us of his negative experience in Boston, where he said people judged him based on how he dressed and spoke.


“Y’all keep treating everyone like people,” he told us the next morning, before we took a picture together. It was poignant, given we were two Chinese-American men, brothers who grew up in a small Australian town where the cricket pitches and school buses were often sites of ignorant racism.


'Jimmy' James Noles II: a country songwriter and attitude adjuster from Lubbock, TX and fellow Rail Pass traveler