Escapes WEEKENDER
Riding Amtrak up and down California searching for much more than just adventure Railway Runaway BY NYLAH BURTON
lying makes me feel powerless. So in 2019, I stopped and started taking trains—mainly Amtrak. On these trains, I carry a sense of rootlessness that’s invaded me since I became estranged from my mother nine years ago. And on trains, I’ve learned I’m not alone. This waywardness runs through many frequent train travelers. Traveling often and for long periods of time, it sometimes feels like I have no home. Often when visiting a new place, I think, ‘Maybe, if I relocated, this could be home.’ I had left Chicago, the place I moved to call home, where my partner and friends were, feeling antsy. Finding myself in California—as F
wonderers and wanderers often do—riding the rails, I was once again fantasizing about starting over. I decided to attempt traveling through the state solely by Amtrak and other public transit, even though I was unsure how feasible that would be. After 42 hours on the Southwest Chief from Chicago to Los Angeles, I stepped off the train and into an aggressive heatwave. Despite it being 100 degrees, my friend and I went to a dive bar in the small beach town of Playa del Rey, where I met a man who shared with me that he’d lost his own mother years prior. He’d been grieving—and trying to capture a sense of home—ever since. My people. My mother was alive,
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