On Friday night (Wolf Point MT) I broke down the bike and practiced packing it in the suitcase. I did it for real the next day after riding to the train station. The rest of my gear, including my tent and sleeping bag went into a large cloth sided bag. I was pushing the size and weight limits of Am Track and also United Airlines. I was nervous, but pretty confidant. The train didn't leave Wolf Point until late on Saturday afternoon so I had lots of time to get myself and gear ready. Indeed I got on without a problem. There were plenty of open double seats so I was alone until Fargo. It was quiet and pretty and easy. I decided to have dinner on board to see how an Am Track dinner would be. Unfortunately my mother's training in how to like over cooked vegetables, and Wonder Bread, has been eroded over the years by all you readers who have prepared many meals for me, not least Beth. Take the train. It's great. Take your own food.
The train seats had significantly more leg room than do coach seats on planes and until Fargo, at about 3:00 AM I had no seat partner, so all in all I slept pretty well.
Due to the flooding in Wisconsin the train did not go beyond Minneapolis and we transferred to charter buses to get to Chicago. In this transfer they gave preference to those who had continuing train connections beyond Chicago. Three buses were going directly there and the rest of the passengers were to be assigned to buses that would stop at destinations along the way. They didn't quite fill the three express buses with people who had continuing connections so they chose a few of the remaining group to be on those buses. At about this time I mentioned to the l guy in charge that it might be good to ask if anyone had plane connections to make and he acknowledged that that would be a good idea. Just then the woman assistant came in from the buses and said there was one more seat. I raised my hand to ask for it and the guy looked at me and said something about my bright yellow shirt and motioned me on. I hustled out the door with two suit cases and two panniers. Because I was last on the bus my bags were last into the belly of the bus and I looked forward to them being first unloaded when we got to Chicago. Feeling pretty lucky, if not actually smug, I hopped on board and started down the aisle. I figured my seat would be at the back right next to the restroom, but not so. About half way back on the left side was an empty aisle seat, well sort of empty. I paused when I reached it and looked down, a little unsure. The guy in the window seat said it was available as he hitched himself up. It occurred to me that he may have been going to Chicago to audition for a place on the biggest loser, if you get my meaning. Be careful what you wish for.
On arrival I unpacked the bike, put it together and rode to the apartment of our friend Maggie. She took me in, we went to a place she knew that does great Chicago style pizza and we talked the evening away. Maggie is in her late twenties and works in the health division of the Boeing Co. She started out in Seattle doing fitness training for the Boeing execs and they took her back east when the company moved. She lives downtown and is having a great time there. She also has an expanded work position, and a budding male relationship so things are pretty good. My only disappointment was that I did not get to see the lake front before meeting Maggie as I had planned, because I had trouble getting my bike put back together quickly when I got off the bus. However in the morning Maggie went for an early run along the shore and I followed on my bike. The night before Maggie had found on line instructions on how to bike into O'Hare through the taxi entrance. The only alternative seems to be via a freeway. I set out at about 8:00 on the 20 plus mile ride.
It turns out Chicago is a great biking town. It is flat and has a well developed system of bike lanes and routes. There were dozens of people biking that Monday morning. It all went fine until I actually got into the staging area where cabs wait to be allowed to the passenger load zones at the terminal buildings. The online instructions said there would be odd stares, but no one would object to a biker. Wrong. I was stopped by a security person who wanted to know who said I could enter the airport in this way. I showed him my printed out instructions and said they came from that authoritative place "on line". I hoped that would mean something. It did. It meant that the guy was befuddled. He didn't believe I was supposed to be let through, but knowing I was ticketed for a flight, and that there was no other safe way for me to get in, he didn't want to send me back to the freeway. Finally after about 15 minutes he decided to let me go, but to follow me closely in his patrol car so that no cabbie would run over me. And that is how I rode to O'Hare. He made copies of the instructions for further investigation. I hope I'm not the last one to get there that way because it worked very well.
Three hours later Beth and Marianne Jones picked me up at the Manchester NH airport and took me to Concord for the night.
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