Renewed faith in humanity: My angel on the Amtrak

I wasn’t sure what to expect during my recent trip to New York City. While my daughter and I visited the Big Apple, we sampled yummy bites of Thai spring rolls, pedaled around Central Park, and pondered the Going Dark exhibit at the Guggenheim.

But the best thing we got was a visit from an angel named Jessica.  

After several days touring the city and mastering the NY subway system, my daughter and I arrived at Moynihan Train Hall for our trip home. Finding a comfy bench in the waiting area, we relaxed and swapped thoughts on our favorite parts of the visit. We embodied confidence and contentment.

It wouldn’t last.

When we boarded the train, we couldn’t find seats together, so we sat across the aisle from each other. My seat mate was AirPodding into a Zoom meeting, so I waited to introduce myself. Right on time, we pulled out of the station and started our trip to our first stop, Newark.

We didn’t get far.

Just before Newark, the train stopped, and the conductor announced that the Portal Bridge was stuck open and maintenance was working on it. We sat in a dark tunnel and waited. My phone pinged with an update from Amtrak, sharing what the conductor already had.

Meanwhile, my seat mate was off of her Zoom call and busy explaining to her child how to unclog a sump pump because, apparently, somewhere a basement was flooding. (It had been an especially rainy week in the northeast.)

When she got off the phone, she looked at me and smiled. “So, what’s happening with the train?”

I filled her in on the bridge debacle. “I overheard your phone conversation. Sorry about the flood.”

“Oh, it’s my mom’s basement. It’s done this before. Hopefully my daughter can manage it. Just living life, you know?” She grinned like she wasn’t facing multiple crises on a rainy Thursday. 

The intercom crackled, and the conductor informed us that repairs were taking longer than expected, and we would be backing up to the NY station.

My seat mate and I raised our eyebrows. “And then what?” we both wondered aloud. I looked on Expedia for flights to Washington, D.C. She checked out Greyhound’s site. My phone pinged with yet another update from Amtrak.

When we returned to the underground tunnels of Moynihan Hall, the conductor addressed us again.  “Well folks, this train will eventually start its route, but we don’t know if it will be in one hour or three. You can leave the train to go to the station, but please listen for announcements and alerts. It’s easiest if you just stay here.”

Preparing ourselves for a long wait, my daughter and I started the NYT crossword, the full sized one. My seat mate introduced herself as Jess and said she was heading up for a snack. “Do you need anything?” We shared our names and thanked her. I assured her I’d keep an eye on her belongings while she was gone. “Don’t let the train leave without me,” Jess said.

She returned a few minutes later, and daughter and I decided our backs could use a break, and popcorn and soda sounded appealing. So, we left our stuff under Jess’s watch and headed up to the station. The delay had caused chaos for many trains and travelers, and hordes of people sat on the polished floors or waited in line for food. During a quick trip to the bathroom, the girl behind me in line asked, “Are you from train 95?” I answered, “Yes, you too?” She nodded nervously.

In hindsight, I wonder if she’d heard something I hadn’t.

Back out in the food court, we skipped the long line at Chopped and quickly paid for Skinny Pop and a Diet Pepsi. Then we headed down to track number 12, where we had boarded our train the first time. The line of cars on track number 12 looked different. Some had double decker seating. My daughter said, “Mom, I’m getting worried.”

We took a convoluted route back up to the station, found the nearest employee, and told her we were looking for train 95 headed to Virginia. She checked her handheld monitor and frowned. When she spotted a fellow employee across the way, she headed in his direction and motioned for us to follow. The man she spoke to shook his head. “We made several announcements. That train is gone.”

Gone. With our luggage, my daughter’s laptop, phone, and purse.

As the female employee led us to customer service, I struggled to accept the situation. We hadn’t been gone that long. I didn’t get any texts. How had we missed the train? Maybe it was just lost in the confusion, hiding on a different platform. At customer service, I received a sheet of paper with directions for filing a lost items claim.

“Ma’am, do you know the number of the car you were on?”

No.

“The seat number you were in?”

No.

The man behind the counter shook his head. “Good luck. Give them as many details about your items as you can, but it’s a long shot.”

All my hope sank to the floor. I still wanted to believe train 95 was parked somewhere in the tunnels below us.

Suddenly, my daughter called me. “Mom! The train is here! Come on!” A group of us (because we were NOT the only ones to miss the train) followed a man in a navy Amtrak vest down an escalator. As soon as we got to the track, the man waved us into a door. “Just get on!”

The train started rolling shortly after we boarded. And then we learned we were not on train 95. It was train 92. Also heading to Virginia. But not with our stuff.

We plopped down next to a couple from Boston. I explained our predicament. “If you need to borrow a phone, or a laptop, just let us know.” My daughter took a phone and started searching Linked In. I combed Facebook for a woman named Jessica. I’d seen her scrolling, so I knew she had a profile.

There are a lot of Jessicas on Facebook.

Next, I called the numbers on Amtrak’s Lost Item flyer. I got voice mailboxes, a woman working for the Florida train authority, and Automated Assistant Julie. None of these calls proved fruitful or comforting. My daughter stared out the window, not actually seeing the warehouses we passed.

Finally, I decided if I didn’t hear from anyone, we’d take train 92 to Alexandria and drive down to the end of the line in Norfolk to retrieve our belongings. It seemed like our best shot to claim our stuff. I put my mother-in-law, who lives in Tidewater, on alert.

By then, our friends from Boston had tracked down a conductor who told us that our belongings had been removed from train 95 in Philly. All the passengers from train 95 needed to get off in Philly and claim their luggage. It seemed encouraging, but I was dubious. How in the world did they know what bags were ours?

Thirty minutes later, at the baggage claim in Philly, we realized they did not, in fact, have our bags. But, after we reported our dilemma to the station superintendent and got new tickets to Alexandria, I checked my Facebook messages.

And there it was. A frantic note from Jessica: Call me at this number.

I cried out to my daughter. “It’s Jess! She found us!” We knew my seatmate with the perfect hair and the calm disposition would come through, and she did.

When Jess answered her phone, she heaved a huge sigh. “I’ve been so worried for you! I’ve been hitting you up online any way I could find!”

Jessica asked for details about our bags and collected all of them. Took a picture to confirm. Got me on the phone with the conductor who assured me they would leave our items at customer service at Union Station in D.C. I got follow up calls from the same conductor as well as from an employee at Union Station.

While we rode to DC to collect our bags, I looked at Jessica’s Facebook profile. Turns out this together woman is a UVA grad, just like me. We later figured out her significant other is a guy I went to high school with. “God is so good!” she texted me later. “All the time,” I replied.

My daughter and I learned several things on that crazy train ride. First, just stay on the train. Second, if you get off the train, take everything with you. But third, and most importantly, people are good. Throughout the crisis, strangers offered kindness and generosity, including the Amtrak employees. But the star of this story is Jessica. She was prepared to take all of our stuff with her when she got off in Baltimore and mail it to us. People she didn’t even know. Because of her thoughtfulness and concern, my faith in humanity shot up several points.

Don’t let the headlines fool you. People are good. Jessica was our angel on the Amtrak that day, and we are forever grateful. Thank you, Jessica, and Go Hoos!

Thanks for getting nerdy with me!