Pacific Surfliner Goes Right Along The, Well, Pacific Surf
By Kevin Wilkerson, PubClub.com Travel Blogger
Americans don’t travel on trains very often, not when we are in the USA, anyway.
And most certainly not in Los Angeles, where people are stuck to their cars like bugs on the windshield in Texas.
But Angelenos should consider taking the train every now and then because they might be pleasantly surprised if they can ever pry their car keys out of their hands.
I did it from Union Station to San Diego one sunny afternoon and enjoyed it.
For starters, Amtrak calls the train the Pacific Surfliner. That has a real California coolness to it – good job, marketing department! And the club car I stumbled into (quite literally, keep reading) was named Hermosa Beach, which just happens to be the name of the town in California where I live.
Pacific Surfliner is not just some slogan, either, it’s a description of much of the journey. About half the trip goes along the Pacific Ocean. At one point, we were so close to the beach I could have reached out and put suntan lotion on a couple of blonde babes suntanning in bikinis.
Even though I knew the trip took 2 1/2 hours, I was amazed at how fast we were making tracks once we were moving on the tracks. After I barely made it to Union Station due to LA’s awful public transportation system and tossed myself onto the train that I made by a mere two minutes, no sooner did I look up and we were already in Anaheim.
Seemingly moments later, we were rolling along the Pacific. At this rate, I began to wonder if I would have enough time to finish my cocktail!
The people working on Amtrak were friendly. As we approached the Mug’s Away Saloon in Laguna Nigel, I asked them if I was obligated to drop my shorts and moon the bar. That would be up to me, they replied.
(For those who do not know, there is an annual event at the Mug’s Away called the Mooning of the Amtrak.)
My pants stayed up and I was enjoying the view out the big window of the passing sea and occasional stops at train stations in the beach cities. It was nice, I noted as I looked out and saw cars moving along the parallel 5 freeway, to be able to make this trip with a drink in my hand (Amtrk has beer, wine and champagne).
Riding The City Of New Orleans, Er. City Of Hermosa Beach
When we passed a graveyard of rusted automobiles, I instinctively started singing (to myself) the American roadie classic song, “City of New Orleans.”
Except I slightly changed the words to the tune of:
Riding the City of Hermosa
Surfliner Central Thursday afternoon
Fifteen cars and 150 restful riders
All glad to be out of the L.A. Metro mess
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulled out from Union Sta
And rolls along past houses, buildings and beaches
Passing trains that have no names
And the shorelines of our great SoCal
And a graveyard of rusted automobiles…
…I’ll be gone 300 miles by the time the day is done…
At Carlsbad, a group of lesbians came aboard the City of Hermosa. Don’t get too excited guys, not a single one of them was remotely attractive.
They departed at Solona Beach and I busied myself staring out the window in Del Mar, looking at places I had been past in a car and been to on foot seemingly a hundred times. It was an interesting new perspective to see these things from the rails.
Suddenly, we were in San Diego. The big train stopped at the Santa Fe station downtown and the journey had reached its end.
But sometime – hopefully soon – I’l be rockin’ again to the gentle beat and feeling the rhythm of the rail, all on that magic carpet made of steel that is the City of Hermosa Beach.
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