Just Dessert

Dining car privileges come with a sleeper car, but on the southbound train we didn't have a sleeper, and so the cost of the items on the menu led us to pack a grocery bag and cooler before we left Chicago. We ate well, and we ate cheaply.

Then, one evening, the memory of dessert echoed in Trudy's ear. On the northbound journey, she had a chocolate truffle after our meal. It was warm. It was gooey. It was chocolaty. And she loved it. The memory of that truffle evidently bounced around in her head silently until on the evening of the second day they made the last call for the dining car.

Dessert? Trudy asked. Ben's eyes lit up.

Now you must know that our experience in the dining car on the northbound trip was anything but positive. The staff were cranky and mean and generally treated us like an obstacle to getting their own scheduled breaks and meals. Every time, without fail, we felt unwelcome as we walked in, and our excitement about being on the train was consistently quenched by their hostile attitudes.

So when they made that last call and Trudy said that word, my reaction was one of fear.

Are we allowed to go in there only for dessert? I asked.

Of course in a normal world, no one would think to ask such a question. But having been conditioned by our northward trip, I was not particularly interested in investigating. Trudy, on the other hand clearly had it bad with this chocolate truffle in her head. So I said, Let's ask.

So Trudy and Ben and I got up to go to the dining car.

We were greeted at the door by the woman who had made the announcement. She actually had a smile on her face (or something approximating a smile in any event).

Can we just have dessert?

You'd better hurry.

We took that as a yes.

Inside we were met with the bewildered gazes of the dining car staff, most of whom were seated already eating their meals. One of them had a medium rare steak in front of him and was clearly enjoying it immensely.

When we sat down, the attendant dropped three menus on the table, asked what we'd like to drink and walked away. When he returned with our drinks, we said that we were only having dessert.

He didn't respond in any physically discernable way, but his disgust was thick around him. That's part of the subtlety of how they work in there. They treat their customers like dirt, but if you had a video tape of it all, you'd never know what was going on.

So he took our order and shouted it downstairs to the kitchen. After only a few minutes, he brought us what we ordered on styrofoam plates. He slide them across the table at us and walked away.

We sat there enjoying what we got. The food was good, and the sun was setting with spectacular crimson and lavender clouds glowing over West Texas. We would be home soon.

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Amtrak Texas Eagle, southbound to Austin
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