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Montreal. Canada
DAY 6 9:30 AM and the train pulls out of the Montreal Canadian National Terminal right on time. It is a dreary day. I asked he conductor of Amtrak train #68 if it snowed last night. He answers, “Do I look like a weatherman to you?” I think he’s kidding, but still didn’t get an answer. We’ve been underground so I don’t either. When we finally get outside, there is no snow, but it is bitterly cold. Too cold for people to stand out on the open platform. The trip south is cold and wet. But it’s snug inside as passengers read, watch TV, or simply enjoy talking with one another. The train rolls along at 70 to 80 miles an hour and so far we’re right on schedule. The scenery never ceases to amaze me. The rock formations, the bright red color of the maple trees, and of course, Lake Champlain once we get past the border. Customs takes a long time. The US custom agents are friendly, but professional. They like the Metis, and spend some extra time asking about the car. Then it off for the bright lights of New York City. It’s close to 9-PM when we enter the City. New York is by far one of the spectacular places in the world. The skyline is a familiar sight. It conjures up memories of when I was a small boy. My grandfather and Grandmother on my mother’s side migrated to New York City from Massena, Sicily in 1917. They settled in Jackson Heights, and as a kid, I used to take the subway to Times Square Station to meet my Grandfather who was a barber in the Empire State Building. That was great adventure for a 10 year old Pennsylvania farm boy. Pennsylvania Station is famous for trains like the Broadway Limited and the people who rode them. Glen Miller, Frank Sinatra, Pearl Bailey, Jack Benny and Bob Hope to name a few, but just about anyone who was who’s who stepped off of the trains here at one time or another. We are part of a few, but the commute trains come and go every few minutes, even at this late hour. New York never sleeps. There is no time to explore. For security reasons we are not allowed off the train. It is only a matter of minutes before we are cut off from the train and placed on a holding track to await the train that will take us back up to Boston. We leave at 3-AM, but I didn’t know it. I was fast asleep. Next stop, Boston, Massachusetts, and the true story of the Battle of Bunker Hill. Be seein you… |
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