As they (sort of) say, a person can get mad and glad in the same pair of blue jeans.
Let’s talk about the mad. I hit an 11 out of 10 last fall when my husband and I traveled back to Missouri from Alamogordo, N.M., where we’d attended his brother’s sweet and memorable backyard wedding.
After the festivities, we drove our rental car north to Albuquerque to spend the night, looking forward to the next step on our journey.
We’d traveled cheaply on the way out, booking the lowest Amtrak fare and sitting up all night on the train from Kansas City to Albuquerque. But for the return, I’d upgraded us to a “roomette” – with private seating, a more exclusive bathroom, bunk beds and dining car meals.
We sure didn’t want to be late for that, so we got up early and dressed quickly (me, in my favorite jeans).
A bitterly cold wind slapped us in the face when we stepped outside our hotel to drive our rental car back to its hub. We gave ourselves two and a half hours to make the train, because roads could have been slick, and we were uncertain about early-morning traffic conditions.
The sun wasn’t shining, but we felt like it was when it took less than 10 minutes to turn in our car and even less to secure an Uber ride and get to the station.
We pulled the glass door open and stepped gratefully into the warmth. All we had to do was pull out our books and wait a bit.
Uh, not so fast, you out-of-towners.
Several dozen seats intended for train passengers were cordoned off. My husband stepped over the tape and took a seat.
“That tape’s there for a reason,” a short, round female security guard gruffly told him. “Are you here for the train?”
When we said yes, she responded tersely and no less gruffly, “Then leave and come back later.”
Not so easy to do when you arrived without a vehicle in an area with no public-access buildings nearby.
And, did I mention the cold and the wind?
There were dozens of other people in the station, and my husband waved his arm in their direction.
“What about them?” he asked in bewilderment.
“They’re waiting for the bus (the site doubles as a Greyhound station),” the guard responded. “The Amtrak station isn’t open yet.”
So, we did what any other mildly intelligent people would do. We mixed in with the bus crowd and found seats as far away from the guard as possible, trying to blend in.
That worked until the bus arrived. We were the only people left not wearing a uniform, and there was nowhere to hide.
The same guard again told us to leave immediately.
“We’re not going to stand out in the cold!” My husband said with some force.
“I don’t make the rules; I just enforce them,” the guard said, more forcefully.
Obedience was the only option.
The temperature was a bit too cold for my husband, according to the rules for a person with a heart condition, so we crossed our fingers while he shivered.
Forty minutes later, the Amtrak station opened, and we went back inside with no obvious ill-effects, unless you count the steam coming out of my ears as a health hazard.
Everything was great aboard the train. Our needs were met by a more-than-friendly staff, the views from the observation car were spectacular and the upgrade proved well worth the extra money.
I had planned to call Amtrak and complain, but I decided to be glad, not mad.
I got gladder when I learned a long-held dream to place an Amtrak stop in De Soto is moving toward reality, with a green light from Amtrak, $1 million coming from the state budget, $500,000 in matching funds pledged by the city, and plans to seek more matching funds from county government.
The July 11 Leader contained all that good news, and I happened to be wearing my favorite jeans when I read the story.
A tale of two Amtrak stations seemed like a feasible column idea, so I leaned back into my mad a little.
Why was that guard so discourteous last October? Why was there no mercy for a couple of older people who obviously were unaware of the rules?
I called Amtrak to ask those questions.
This never happens, but I reached a human on my first try: Marc Magliari, senior public relations manager for Amtrak government affairs and corporate communications.
“I apologize for your experience,” he said immediately, with not a whiff of defensiveness. “That’s not the way we want our customers to be treated.”
He explained that Amtrak leases space for its station and that the security guard would not have been his company’s employee.
“I wish you had told our Amtrak staff about it when the station opened,” he said, “but I will contact that station and tell them what happened to you.”
You know I was wearing my blue jeans when I talked to Marc, right?
So, here’s the score: mad, glad, glad, a little mad, glad.
That’s too many emotions for one pair of jeans. I might have to retire them.