Metrolink608: Cuddled By The Engineer He has perfect attendance since starting to work for Metrolink fifteen years ago. He has my phone number. But does he remember my name? Teasing, quiet, confident, and energetic moments, and finally cuddled by the tech talking engineer. He is the best, because he is himself. Getting All Pretty “I’m not going to chase a toy train.” It is Monday December 14 and Shelley, bob, Andy and Bruce are in the café talking. The Santa train was cancelled on Saturday December 12 due to the rain and it could be that the train might run on Friday or it could be that it won’t run at all. Metrolink puts together a Christmas show each year and I haven’t’ seen it yet so I can’t really explain it. But tonight I tell them I’m not chasing that train. “Not unless Glen is on it,” Andy says. Ok if Glen is on the train maybe I’ll chase it. But maybe not. “If he has enough seniority to bid for it, Bob says. He has a lot of years running engines I’m sure he could bid on it but I don’t’ know. “I’ll have to ask him about that,” I say. I reach into my yellow bag and pull out hand lotion. “You’re not heading over yet are you?” Bruce asks. “No not now. I’m just getting all pretty.” I laugh. I put the lotion on my hands, I put cherry flavored Chapstick on, fluff my hair, and adjust a cream sweater I’m wearing tonight as protection against the cold. I have my hat and gloves, somewhere I’ve lost my scarf, but I don’t use them tonight. I get up and go outside. “You have twenty minutes,” Andy says, standing at the gate to the cafe. “I know. I’ll have to hurry. I might be late. I might miss the train. Glen might miss me.” It takes five minutes to walk to where Glen pulls that train; I don’t’ think I’ll have any trouble getting there. “yeah,” Andy says. “Glen might be devastated if I don’t go over there. I’m sure not. Glen is a grown up man.” “I don’t know, Andy says. “You don’t think Glen is a grown up man?” “Well, he hasn’t answered my question about L.A. yet,” I say. “He should know I’m going to keep asking till I get a yes or a no.” Andy chuckles. “No is okay,” I tell Dave Norris later. “I’ve been a little distracted this week and not sure why.” “I can’t seem to get anything done,” Robert the attorney with a 14 year old lab who barks at train says. That starts the whole discussion about being distracted. “I’m distracted because I can’t get an engineer to say yes or no about meting me in L.A.,” I admit. “Well, some people have difficulty,” says David. I head over to the track, Lauren who made my acquaintance the day that Glen’s train was twenty minutes late and who has talked to me on days when she takes this train since then comes up and we discuss what I don’t remember. The clock in the tower chimes 7:00 PM. The train approaches. All the way back I can hear that bell. I have to ask him when he starts ringing that bell. I can’ tell this far back if it is an e-bell or a pneumatic bell. “Come on baby,” I say. “Bring it home.” He has a five car train but I notice that the bell rings inconsistently. The locomotive stops, the bell stops then starts again. There is a click as Glen opens his window Tonight he operates locomotive 859, part of the first order of locomotives placed by metrolink. “Hey, what’s up?” “The bell!” I smile and wave, energetic, “Don’t do that to me. “It’s not working right.” “Oh, what’s wrong with it?” “It’s tired, Glen explains. “Oh, I see.” Did you work this wet weekend?” I ask my sweet engineer. “Yeah. And you?” “No way!” tonight I’m animated. I shake my head, I wave my hand, maybe It’s because I’ve just had my nails done again with glitter and a pretty little snowflake on each ring finger. “I work Christmas Eve and Christmas,” I say. “That’s enough.” “You work Christmas day?” “Yeah.” “Oh, no,” Glen says rather animatedly. Maybe I’m waving my hand right in his eyes, his sweet, kind engineer eyes looking at me from behind glasses, maybe laughing eyes. “”Good night.” I stand in my pose, waving, hand out, tonight I can hear the radio. “Highball,. Richard says, signaling Glen to get the heck out of Dodge. It’s the best, even if the bell doesn’t work right.” What’s Your Number Tuesday, Andy shows up early to help a disabled passenger off the 608. He needs assistance getting into the elevator and he uses a communication board. He stands with me at the five car marker spot waiting as Glen pulls 608 obediently to that marker. They really will need that wheelchair ramp. We talk as we wait for him to position that train just so. “I have a music degree,” I tell Andy. “You should be playing piano, not chasing trains,” he says. “It was too hard.” I briefly outline my history to the Metrolink agent. I tell him that I got a Bachelors in music, did my time getting a Masters and decided I didn’t really want to do that, and then gave it all up for Disney and trains. “It works,” I say. “It works.” By the time the conversation closes Glen is sitting here. I approach for the usual greeting. Andy stands behind me. “Hey,” Glen says. “Just another day in Paradise.” “Yeah,” Andy responds. Funny the use of that phrase reminds me of someone who works for Disney that I haven’t seen in a while. Wonder where he is. A freight passes while we stand there. I’m happy. This means a few more minutes with Glen; just being here is good. “she wants to know how many years you’ve been with metrolink,” Andy yells over the clatter of the sweet freight. “From the beginning,” says Glen. He says something that is lost to me. “She’s looking for you to have a day off to have lunch with you,” Andy now says. I’m sure I turn three shades of red because that’s not what I asked. It is a good thing because it sort of does bring up the subject of tomorrow. “Yeah.” the freight clatters away leaving the sweet sound of the FP59 that Glen operates. Andy goes to help Ricky. “You have tomorrow off?” Glen says as if he’s thinking about something. “Does tomorrow work?” Silence grows between us, the engine idles. “What’s your number?” I do a double take. I’ve been thinking I should give him my number but have been unsure how to do this. This communication through the cab of a locomotive is new to me; I have to problem solve. I remember problem solving when I communicated with a deaf man through rudimentary sign language and a laptop, but this is different. Glen can’t or won’t open that door, I have to go through Richard or I have to hop on his morning train and get him coming down the stairs and then if I do that we might as well just meet. But here he is, asking me for my number. I give it to him, no questions asked. “Repeat it back to me,” I say. He waits a minute then he says “525 what was the rest of it?” 9632. Now I wonder if he’ll get the area code right. I hope so. If not I’m sunk. “I told him you were looking for him to have a day off,” Andy tells me later. “He said he has perfect attendance so good luck.” “You heard that?” “Yeah.” These were the words I lost in our earlier conversation. “How!” I’m always losing his words. “I have my ear cocked toward him,” he says. It’s a solution so simple I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. Now maybe I’ll catch his soft words. This is a prospect so stimulating that I file the solution away in my head for future use. Things can only get better rom here. Too Much Power It’s Wednesday is he calling me today? Oh my. An engineer has my number. I have my list. I’ll print it and go. I’m going to go have breakfast then what I don’t know. Just hang out and be at the station. Tomorrow I have to work four hours then I can come home and get caught up on writing. I don’t’ think he’ll call me till after 9:00 if he calls at all. What have I done? Granted a man too much power. Thank God this is my cell phone because no way am I sitting by the phone waiting for a call that might not come from someone who makes way more money than I do and has a life! Maybe I don’t have the life. I have a life it’s just a traumatic one, at least for eight hours. As it turns out, Wednesday is a beautiful day. I nap at the station. I meet Wendy at the café later in the afternoon waiting for her 5:24 train. She plays Mega or Super Lotto or something. The pot is very big and everyone wants a ticket. Engineer Epiphany “Where are you going ma’m?“ It’s 4:00 and train 602 is at the station. It sits on track 3 a lovely FP59 with my sweet bell, though it’s not Glen’s bell. I don’t know where Glen is. He’s just doing his job. He’s not going to call me today. That’s fine I’m having a lot of fun here and hey I can see him for two minutes. The train stops at the three car marker. I walk down to the train and wave as I pass the window. The bell is sounding the engineer moves the train. I walk down to the last car, sitting on the planter. The engineer sets the brakes. I gather myself. The conductor opens the door. Oh my, now I’ve done it. “Where are you going?” “No, I’m just waving,” I say. “I’m okay. Don’t be late.” I guess the engineer thought I wanted the train. Tonight sitting here just having given my phone number to one engineer I think I’ve figured out that I have gotten their attention. Lilian says don’t knock it, I got it. I feel like apologizing to this kind engineer who most likely was just doing his job. He wasn’t the last train out of Clarksville. He’s the 4:00 pm, there’s one behind him in 27 minutes. I sit on the planter and start crying. I think tonight after everything I realize I’ve made contact. I’ve gotten the engineer’s attention. It seems silly but I’ve accomplished what I set out to do last November. I’ll have to go back and say hi again to the engineer on the 602. I’m not going to walk past the train. I’m just going to stay there and say hi. The thing is that it takes so much energy I have to start all this again? Why not! I’ll give it a shot an see where it leads me. Icecream Moment I sit at the café with my bags at my feet, my empty plate of French fries, a soda can, and some napkins. IN the background the Christmas music plays unobtrusively. “did you eat already?” Janice asks. She and bob enter the café with its cobble stone flooring, two refrigerators, a bumball machine, magazine racks, and bare white walls not yet replete with train photos that used to hang there. “I came at 9:00 this morning and I was hungry at 4:00 so I did eat.” I had a patty melt and fries. I had a butter finger, an ice-cream cone. Bob orders his usual chicken tenders and teases me about always ordering a patty melt. We shoot the breeze, conversation about Janice’s work with the theater, who’s coming in, what was for lunch. As we sit there a huge freight train stretching endlessly to our right pulls slowly just shy of the bridge. It’s always a happy occasion when a freight train pulls in; lots of pictures and maybe the engineer will get out of the cab and come in and grace us with their presence. “So are you going to give me a blow by blow account of the engineer’s movements?” I ask Janice. He just sits there. But wait. There is hope for the drooling train fan ! “He’s getting out of the cab and walking across the track. Now he’s coming into the café.” Indeed he is. He passes right by us. The ice-cream freezer is probably three feet from our spot it’s not a very big café. “He’s getting ice-cream,” I say. I bet no man ever had so many people watching him get ice-cream. He goes about his business. We wave; he waves back. He walks out the door and waits now as a Metrolink train now blocks his way back to his cab. He waits patiently and then heads across the hot rails to his laire. “Wow he is a young guy,” Janice comments. The engine pulls obediently, the cars fall in line behind the seven locomotives. Most freight engineers are young I would suspect. The majority of railroaders get their start in running freight if they’re going to be engineers. There are some young Amtrak engineers. The breakdown goes like this: freight, a mix, Amtrak, younger, metrolink, at least in this area, older. Maybe they just want to go home at night and sleep in someone’s bed and set the alarm for 3:20 AM. Wait! More on that later. Sweet Lone Ranger Child “It works!” Where is Glen. His train sits there, his bell rings. “If you want to board it’s not here” says someone behind me. “It works,” I say. The man repeats his words. “I don’t want to board Go away.” “What’s up!” Glen is to my left I go over to him. “Hey! The bell works.” “Sometimes,” he says. “Hey let me ask you something.” Great, those words again. Everytime I say those words I scare myself. My question is too frivolous or too personal and he just wont’ answer it. Well he’s already done that once hasn’t he? “When I gave you my phone number last night did you get the area code?” That is probably the strangest question I’ve ever asked anyone. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m good to go.” “Okay,” I say. Case closed. I just have to chuckle a little; most people who have my cell phone number know I’m never available and so they don’t call me. I can’t even remember the last time I gave out my cell phone number. Here’s something else funny about the whole phone thing. I can usually count on one hand the number of phone calls I get on my phone in one week. “I think I confused the engineer on the 602,” I say. “Yeah.” He revs the engine. I wave. Short conversation. “Adios,” Glen says. Wow that’s a new one. What is he a Lone Ranger child? It sounds like something Dale would say, he’s the pilot that inverted his plane onto the field at Troy High School after losing oil pressure. The accident so cose to me inspired my interest in the Fullerton airport. You can read all about that in other essays. Right here, right now, Glen is saying the same thing. I wave. I make my way over the bridge. “If you get to the top of the stairs make a left and…” “And walk up two more flights of stairs and then go straight an down four more flights do you need any more help?” I tell this helpful person who I don’t want being helpful. “I was just trying to help ma’m, thank you,” he says. I’m not always very nice. “What’s the scoop,” Janice wants to know when I get back to the cafe. “He was sitting on the other side of the train. I saw him get up and come over to the other door and talk to you. I saw what he looks like his whole body and everything.” So that’s what took him so long to get to me. I hadn’t realized that he was sitting on the other side. Today they’ve been putting the riverside train on track 1 because of a malfunctioning switch. They haven’t been switching the Ocean Side trains. But Glen is sitting on the right side of the cab, left side if you’re standing with your back to the cafe and directly facing track one. You can see the whites of his eyes. “So did you learn anything you didn’t know before?” I asked. “Well I only saw his head before. He’s a little bit heavy set and a little bit bald.” “I didn’t’ think he was heavy set,” says Curt. “Average weight,” he says earlier to me I remember that. I’ll have to ask him tonight what’s up with that. An is he a loan Ranger child? Just one more question to ask my sweet engineer. Will we ever talk trains again? Make My Day Thursday is always a good day with Glen. Wednesday is getting a reputation for being dicy, but today, was there ever a day so perfect? I have a four hour shift at work, I go home and write some Christmas cards and go through mail, then I talk to my room mate for a while and head off to the station. The grilled cheese sandwich is perfect, the trains aren’t running late. I see Curt early he’s here escaping relatives he says. No Metrolink agents come to tease me. Shirley teases me. She asks me if Glen wants to date me if I would and I blush. Even Bob gets a laugh out of that. I think it’s annoying. She says engineers and conductors are players. Apparently my great grandfather the railroad steam engineer was a player. That’s what family lore states. “Has he called you yet?” she asks. “No.” “fire him,” Shirley says since he hasn’t called by now. Hey that’s not the reason I gave him my phone number. I couldn’t fire my sweet glen he’s the best. Cuddled by the Tech Talkin Engineer Now I stand waiting like an obedient suppliant who refuses to wait by the phone for a call from a man with children half my age. “Hey what’ sup!” Usual Glen inviting Shelley into the sanctuary with his scepter. “are you working this weekend?” he asks. “No way,” I wave, dancing by the cab. “No?” he questions with a teasing inflection as if to say what? And why not young lady?” “No way,” I say. “Oh but wait, I do work Sunday.” I’m still waving. “I have Monday off so I’m working Sunday. And you? Are you working Saturday?” I dance. “Of course,” I’m smiling as if to say as if I’d have to ask that. “Yeah,” he responds. “In the afternoon.” “Train 785 broke down at Santa Fe Springs,” says my engineer to me in his signal calling voice. I really do like that voice it is confident, cool, soothing like cool water on a burning curiosity about trains and maybe the engineer, too. Comfort me with apples my sweet glen. “Oh, no,” I say. “It’s just sitting there.” “How long are they going to sit there?” “Till they get another engine,” he says. Somethin about this conversation between Glen the engineer and Shelley the stary-eyed train girl nags me and it’s not the engineer. I take it all in, let that quiet conversation comfort me. The engine revs. I don’ know what he says, I don’t think anything. I say “see you tomorrow.” Glen pulls 608 away. Halfway across the bridge I know what nags me. I hurry down the stairs, around the planter, find my way between the safety line and the milling crowds waiting for train 4. I make my way into the café and sit down. “Shirley’s train broke down,” I say. Train 785, northbound for Lo Angeles has left us probably half an hour ago. Shirley and Garis are on that train They’re now sitting and waiting for another engine to get them home. I’ll have something to ask about on Monday. I got the scoop from the engineer, from the engineer’s mouth to my ear I tell Larry later. That’s not something I should have said considering the flurry of teasing I take after making such an innocent statement. I smile and nod. Okay, say what you like, this is my engineer. I’ve been cuddled by a tech talking engineer. I’ll take it. Welcome Glen Friday is the most fun day. Everyone comes over, Andy is back to help Ricky off the 608. Dan says we should all hold Welcome glen signs or something. Curt comes over, Howard and Clarita come over. “There have been complaints about someone standing too close to the tracks, touching the trains, stocking the engineers.” “Hey what’s up!” Glen sits. He has a sweet bell. He is sweet no matter what bell he has. What happened to the serious train questions? “Hi,” I say, dancing again. “I’m starving.” “Starving?” says my engineer. “Did you just get off work?” “Yeah. I worked till noon they asked me if I wanted to work till 6:00.” “How are you?” I ask. “It’s Friday!” Yes it is. Are you sleeping in tomorrow?” I want to know. “Yeah.” Everyone disappears, it’s just me and the engineer, me dancing, mostly in relief because I got here in time to see him after working till 6:00. If I get off at6:30 I won’t make it to his train. “I knew it,” I say. “What?” “I knew you wouldn’t sleep in that late.” 6:00 he says. “when you get up at 3:20 in the morning 6:00 is late,” he says. Aha so that’s when Glen gets up. Well today I’ve been up pretty close to that. “I know. Once in the blood early is in the blood,” I say. “I’ve been up since 3:30 and running since.” “3:30 this morning?” he asks a little incredulous. Yes my sweet Metrolink engineer. You do? Why can’t I? It’s quiet, I can get things done, and when I work morning shifts I don’t feel rushed. “Yes,” I say. “Why?” “Because the alarm was going to go off half an hour later and I was already awake so I said why and just got up.” I’ve employed Andy’s trick. I turn my head so I can hear him, my ear closest to the sound of his voice projecting from the cab. “Have a good weekend,” he now says, revving his engine. Then something fun happens. At least I think it’s fun. “You, too,” I say, waving. “Bye.” “Bye,” he says. “He’s sweet on you,” Clarita teases. “No. He’s friendly.” Give a guy your phone number and he gets sweet on you? He’s just Glen. He’s the best. I don’t know what he’s been like in the past, but he has perfect attendance, he cuddles me with tech talk, and he is the best, because he is himself.
Copyright © 2009 Shelley J Alongi |