"We are actually the passengers for the 49," the conductor told me over his Dean Koontz book. "They have to wait for us." We're 40 minutes out, and I had given into my nerves to ask him. I bet he gets asked that question a lot.
Every time I'm on a train, I wonder how long I could get away with stretching out on an overhead luggage rack before I get kicked off. When I rode betwen Beijing and Anhui, any space with enough volume for a body was fair game for a body; I climbed into a dusty top rack and found it full of dried food and bad smells.
The ride got a lot bumpier all of a sudden; we're picking up speed to make better time for the transfer at Albany. My ancient laptop's battery connection is weak, and a hard jostle could interrupt power. That's what swap files are for. I've dropped this thing a million times.
We're going to switch over soon. This 449 has four coach cars and one cafe/business car, for the short hop from Boston to Albany. I'm saving my dinner plans for the next leg.