My wife, Laura, and I are taking a carless vacation to the Boston area. We are giving rail and public trans a good work through, and below you will find some musings and images detailing what it is we are up against and what it is we will find…

Friday August 13 6:55 a.m.—Cleveland, OH 

On the train and through its window, seeing the sunlight rising from a pink-blue sky above a stone and steel city gives thickness to the term “nostalgia”. Can America transcend train travel, though, beyond this is a legitimate question, as rail in the minds of so many is about settling for bygones as opposed to bridging to futures—and because of this: the evolution of American rail is more a reflection of its crumbling. Need proof. Here is Cleveland’s rail station back then, and this is it now. That’s my wife sitting between two dead benches not an hour ago. At one point an Amish man picked one of them up for his elderly mother to sit on, before it fell folding back into the sad position that seems to epitomize the Cleveland station as a whole—both in location and upkeep. If only the Cleveland station was built to lend itself to the notion that the poetry of rail should not be its endpoint, and that it should supplement the efficiency of movement arising from an infrastructure that has not taken its talents to South Beach…or to South Boston for that matter…

9:47 AM—Somewhere near Buffalo

But the poetry of rail can’t be overlooked—as moving on tracks running through the real of the country gives passengers glimpses into America’s flesh. Creeks, trees, towns, and old buildings—and watching the industrial Midwest roll into the grapevines of Western New York. This is superior to the drip, drip monotony that is traveling the Interstate with its buffering pavement and fast-food-feeding commons.

1:00 PM—Syracuse

While not stunning, the Syracuse stop is multi-modal, illustrating the proof that common sense design exists in some corners of our country.

3:40 PM—Outside of Schenectady, NY

The poetry is wearing with each minute passing. There is not only a non-regulation of temperature—the cars swing from extremes of hot and cold—but the passenger behind us has been fighting with her family in Boston over her cell. In a nutshell: her brother and her ex- are stealing the washer and dryer as I write this. She is audibly popping prescription, her voice dulling in monotone with each slow minute passing. Speaking of which, we are stuck in suspended motion. There is a signal malfunction and we can’t go (we’ve been still for an hour). Adding to the delay is the fact that our train was late leaving Chicago because of an electrical malfunction in the dining car. Of course any minute lost only adds to a chain reaction of compounding delays as Amtrak “rents” industrial rail from the likes of CSX et al. This is backwardness. Giving precedence to the moving of inanimate objects over those that are innovating those objects—which is to say those that are needing to move and meet and think and dream within a thing called life superseding these objects—is backwardness. The lesson here, then: without investment, rail will never work. Because the truism “build it and they will come” also works in reverse…

11:30 PM—Near Boston

Two and half hours late. I planned for this, getting a hostel room for the night as opposed to a 160 dollar-room we’d spend several hours in before taking public transit 15 miles north to the nautical town of Marblehead. Meanwhile, the Boston lady is sobbing as she gets closer to her partly emptied home. Her kid says, “At least we have each other, mom”. But it doesn’t dent her sadness.

The train is dim as we pull into Back Bay, and the whistle is blowing…

Saturday, August 14th 10:52 AM—Boston’s South End

In Boston, nice from what I have seen of it: actual warm bodies around—visitors from Europe—public trans employees with actual smiles on their face. As for the latter, I’d like to introduce you to Val. She is a rock star MBTA worker who hooked us up with a free commuter rail ticket from the North Station up near the coast. She answered all questions with smiles: like would a seven-day rail pass help out if we are taking busses in the suburbs? (Yes, and for $15 for a week that is tremendous); and does the seven day pass include commuter rail trips? (No, it does not). Anyway, she was great, genuine, and represented the MBTA to the fullest.

As for the MBTA—or the actual transit’s logistics—there is an ingenious thing called multi-modal hubs that are popping up at places nationwide, like here: at the North Station. There is Amtrak here, connecting to points North, South, and West—and there are several subway lines taking people to parts of Boston proper—and then there are commuter rail tracks as well. And as for the station design: they don’t make them needlessly useless, but frame and dress them if only to insist that car-lessness is not a dirty word here, but rather opportunities to harness bodies and minds to create social capital via good mobility—and through the symbolic gesturing toward quality in aesthetics and societal pride. A few examples:

• The ticket and waiting areas themselves are not just an afterthought. Here, a statue is placed centrally like a fountain in a public space. It gives good form to the waiting area. Contrast this with the ticket area at Cleveland’s Amtrak station.
• Down on the subway platform—when looking up toward the various exits at street level—the frame of the station is open, allowing direction-granting via sign-reading. In other buried subways—think Tower City and much of Chicago that isn’t elevated—the structure is tunnel-like, cut-off from the street level. The open design really made it easy for us to tell which direction we needed to head when getting off the train.
• Buying passes on the MBTA kiosks was as easy as chewing gum compared RTA’s which is like unchewing gum. It literally took me thirty seconds to get 2 seven day passes using a credit card. No headaches, no sweat, no upside down design like this disaster transport.

Oh, yeah—just outside the Back Bay station exists an image in the sustainable designer’s dream.

Saturday, August 14th 6:52 PM—Marblehead, MA

Finally in Marblehead. We got a little lost earlier, getting off at the Swampscott station instead of the Lynn station, as the latter has more of a bus depot with connections to all points. Had to lug biggest suitcase ever in a neighborhood that is car heavy. Foot hurts from smashing biggest suitcase ever on foot coming off Amtrak last night. Sat at a little bus stop (just had a sign really) for an hour with luggage and people did double takes in their cars--though not impolitely.  Finally hopped on the 441 to Marblehead. No rail to Marblehead, just bus.  More in second installment. For now, it’s Saturday, and buying local is tremendous.

To be continued…