On track to ride Amtrak’s Quiet Car

There we were, my wife and I, in the middle of the bustling new Moynihan Train Hall, part of the New York City Penn Station complex. We were searching for an advance clue about which track our Amtrak train would be departing from. It was like the last part of that TV game show, “The Price Is Right,” where you needed to guess which box had the best prizes.The reason for this monumental decision? I was determined that we line up first to beat the competition to board Amtrak’s specially designated Quiet Car. It is said to have achieved iconic status among the world’s passenger train-riding population seeking refuge from the cacophony of modern-day life.In the Quiet Car, which Amtrak started in 2001, conversations, cellphones, and the playing of music are strictly prohibited. The space is hushed as if it’s a public library or a church during silent prayer. Why We Wrote This For this traveler, a frantic sprint for a seat leads to a humorous breach of conduct. You could call me the Quiet Czar, the gatekeeper if you will, who – if circumstances warrant – always wants to help the folks at Amtrak ensure that the Quiet Car lives up to its name. That its passengers really must obey the rules, or there could be trouble.I became a Quiet Car commissar based on previous Amtrak trips, listening for three hours and 45 minutes to cellphone conversations and chitter-chatter between passengers from New York to Washington. Not that people shouldn’t ever be allowed to talk. But in the Quiet Car, Amtrak conductors use a stern, no-nonsense tone when they suggest, “If you want to talk, move to another car.” A few moments later, if the disturbance continues, they’ll repeat the warning. By the conductors’ rather intimidating intonation, you wouldn’t want to know what they’d do with anyone who violates the rule.Philosophers view staying quiet as a powerful tool for achieving peace and personal growth. By obeying the quiet rule in the Quiet Car, could passengers feel more calm? Or would they depart the train feeling stoic for having been forced to not say anything for so long? They certainly could feel more at peace not having to listen to other people’s loud conversations. Who knows, that could translate into the passengers becoming almost speechless about how good they feel about themselves and the world.Amtrak has 21 tracks at this New York station for arrivals and departures. You can only take a wild guess about which track to choose from before boarding crunch time. On this particular morning, I was torn between choosing Track 13 or 14, based on where the previous Amtrak trains had departed for Washington. My wife pointed out that a woman with several badges swinging from her neck looked like an official who could help. Rather than standing in the dark, why not ask her to shed a little light on the situation?She looked hassled. Not wanting to make her job more difficult, I approached trying to act cool and collected. At 45 minutes before our train was scheduled to leave, she advised it was too early to know the track number. But she was very willing to help. Stick close by, she said, and when the time came, she’d tell us where to go.People suddenly materialized from all parts of the Train Hall. After our Amtrak official kindly directed us to Track 5, passengers heading for Washington raced to line up behind us. It’s called the bandwagon effect. Or herd mentality. They must have figured we knew something they didn’t. Then, the gate opened. It was a free-for-all race to the Quiet Car. If we hadn’t been in such a hurry, we would have asked our Amtrak friend for her real name to give her a 10 out of 10 customer satisfaction rating. As our train was about to leave the station, my wife congratulated me for successfully claiming our seats aboard the Quiet Car.“I know how much this means to you,” she said. I thought she sounded a little sarcastic, implying that I might prefer living in a tyrannical police state. Not letting the comment bother me, I blurted out, “If it hadn’t been for that nice lady from Amtrak, who knows what would have happened?”Right then, a fellow sitting across the aisle, who had somehow beaten us in the race to the Quiet Car, gave me a disapproving stare. He put a finger to his lips and whispered, “Shhh.”I nodded. You had to admire this guy. Maybe he was even more zealous than I was about the rules of the railroad. If conversing hadn’t been absolutely prohibited, I would have apologized, “my bad,” vowing to never again breach the Quiet Car code of silence.