Two Stories about Transportation

By James Panero | Wednesday, April 16, 1997

Two weeks ago, I boarded an Amtrak train in Penn Station, New York, bound for White River Junction, Vermont. The train jolted forward before I sat down, propelling me through the car with an inebriate gait. My bags bumped along the rows of seats and passenger heads, alternating between each one like a pendulum. As I took a seat at the car's far end, the train slithered beneath the East River, surfaced in Queens, and snaked its way north through The Bronx, before turning east and on towards the gentrified suburbs of Connecticut.

A half hour passed and the train hit Norwalk, CT. I turned to an old man sitting next to me.

-So, where are you headed?

-Claremont.

-Oh, yeah. You live in Claremont?

-Um. Well, yes I do. Actually I grew up in Claremont, but I lived for a number of years in New York. Now I've retired to Claremont.

He looked like Herman Munster but spoke like Elmer Fudd. He let the word C-l-a-a-a-r-m-o-o-o-n-t roll off his tongue like a native. He spoke with a steady tone. It was an Upper Valley cadence, not the punchy yapping of a New Yorker.

-What are you doing back in the City? I asked.

-My niece Cynthia lives on Franklin Street downtown. She has two dogs. Oh, they're lovely. Andy and Jake. I come down to dog-sit whenever she goes on vacation. I've got nothing else to do. She gives me 50 dollars a day allowance.

-That's nice. Is it fun to be a dog walker?

-Oh, yes. I love dogs. I used to have a little pug myself. I'm even walking other dogs now... I think I undercharge. You know other walkers get $20. I only charge $17.

He proceeded to rattle off his favorite breeds and different dog-walking routes. The old man then turned to me.

-You know, while I'm at it, there's something else I should tell you.

-What's that?

-I'm wearing a catheter right now.

-Oh... a catheter... That must hurt. I didn't know what a catheter was.

-This is actually the third catheter I have ever worn. You know, it's a tube the doctor slides up my penis.

-Ahhh.... And you're wearing this right now?

-Right, because the first one the doctor put in, that broke. You know, I never needed one before this week. But on Wednesday I went to a Chinese restaurant in Midtown and I drank a number of glasses of water. I then took a cab home without relieving myself.

-Sounds like you should have gone in the restaurant.

-I thought I was going to burst in the cab, and the driver missed my street. I had the darndest trouble relieving myself when I got home.

-Oh.

-I woke up the next day, and for the next 24 hours I could not relieve myself. Finally I couldn't walk. Fortunately my niece came home to take me to a hospital.

-That must have been a relief.

-I have never been in so much pain.

-So... how does it work? Do you wear one permanently?

-No, just a little while longer. You see, my urine slowly drains down a tube along my leg... and into this bag at my feet.

I looked down and noticed my own backpack, uncomfortably close to his catheter bag. Horrible thoughts raced through my head, and I slowly pulled my backpack away.

The Amtrak 'Vermonter' runs once a day between New York's Penn Station and White River Junction. Trains leave White River daily at 10:30AM and arrive in New York at 5:46PM. Return trains leave New York at 11:20AM and arrive in White River at 6:15PM. Tickets must be purchased in advanc and can range from $55-$68 each way, depending on availability.

***

I took a Greyhound bus to Dartmouth about a year ago. A garrison of hookers, strip joints, and CHECKS CASHED HERE stores surrounded the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Midtown Manhattan. Inside, a smooth pus-colored marble lined the labyrinth of dark hallways and crevices. On the morning I arrived, an odor of urine, sweat, and crack resin hung low in the terminal.

My gate was a locked door leading to an underground parking lot. Two railings extended towards me from the door. I looked through the door's window and took my seat on the linoleum floor.

-Hey, you don't gotta be a Rockafella to help a fella! A homeless man's rhyme interrupted the steady din of far-off bus engines.

-Agg! What, what 'chu looking at! What!......aaggg! Another man swatted at the empty air.

My bus arrived after an hour. The driver clicked on the PA as I boarded

-OK people. You know the rules. No cigarette or marijuana smoking... Welcome aboard Greyhound!

The bus made numerous stops as it pushed through Connecticut. A burly man boarded in Hartford, CT, and sat down next to me.

-Where are you getting off? I asked.

-Springfield. Gonna see my old woman.

-Oh, yeah?

-Yeah, I'm breaking my f*cking parole just to do it. You know... by crossing state lines.

-Oh.

-It's b*llsh*t. Twenty f*cking miles!

He swayed back and forth and gave me a toothy grin.
Greyhound buses leave White River Junction, for New York City every two hours. The trip takes just over six hours with one or two layovers. $52 each way. Call Greyhound at (800) 231-2222 for more information.

Two Stories about Transportation

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