Cakes* On A Train
I could have driven to Chicago. I could have hopped a plane in DSM, landed at ORD, and taken a taxi to my hotel downtown.
Instead, I drove from Winterset (Quiltropolis) south to Osceola (25 miles), parked my MINI for free in the Amtrak lot, and boarded the California Zephyr.
On the train, I can read and write (and sew) at a wide table next to a big window in the observation car for seven hours while speeding through the prairie. In Chicago, I don’t have to park a car ($40-$60 per night), or employ my aggressive, big-city-traffic driving skills.
I traveled to Chicago for a party and a quilt show.
The party was a reunion at the home of my friend Randy Romano, a fellow member of a yearlong StoryStudioChicago novel-writing cohort taught by the marvelous Rebecca Makkai.
The group in the photo below are members of a different cohort, but that’s the cozy classroom at StoryStudioChicago where we thirteen writers gathered in person to sharpen our fiction writing skills.
Sometimes I drove, sometimes I flew, but mostly I took the train.
I was in fact en route to Chicago on the Zephyr in March 2020 when everything started canceling. In class the following night, Makkai told us, “No matter when you live your life, some serious s**t is bound to come down. Don’t use anything, even a pernicious virus, as an excuse to not write.”
My cohort members have kept writing, but circumstances for some of us have changed. Jasmine is still in St. Louis, but Stephanie moved to France. Ryan and his wife recently left Chicago to build a house in the Pacific Northwest. Marie is the mother of a school-age daughter. Tyler is the father of two. Adam’s daughter is due in June.
Only two of us, Adam and myself, made it to Randy’s, but what fun the three of us had talking shop in person over snacks and white wine in Randy’s beautiful living room. An hour or so into the evening, we traipsed back to the kitchen to open the white baker’s box resting alluringly on the countertop.
Cake enjoyed, wine bottle empty, Adam drove me to my hotel—The Ambassador Gold Coast. The extra chunk of cake (double plastic wrapped) Randy sent home with me went straight into the fridge in my room and stayed there on Saturday while I attended the H + H Fiber+Fabric Craft Festival at the Stephens Convention Center in Rosemont.
On Sunday morning as I packed my bags, I was looking forward to sewing and listening to an audiobook all the way to the Mississippi River. Once on the Iowa side, I’d enjoy my cake. I popped into the restaurant at The Ambassador on my way out. Lucky for me, the hotel’s impressive breakfast buffet was still in place.
“I’ll bring these back,” I chirped to a staff member as I picked up a plate, fork, and cloth napkin.
Back home in Quiltropolis, I washed the fork and plate, laundered the napkin, packed it all up, and sent my dining implements back to The Ambassador, a thank-you note enclosed.
*Only one cake, actually . . . and only a single slice.
Julie Gammack is the heart and soul of the Iowa Writers Collaborative, to which I proudly belong. She’s also the founder of the wonderful Okoboji Writers and Songwriters Retreat held every September at Lake Okoboji. Please check it out and consider attending.
What could be better than a good dessert and a train ride. In Mt. Pleasant we lived a 1/2 block from the Amtrak train station. Once I rode from Mt. Pleasant to NYC with a stop in Chicago. On the way home I asked the porter to let me off early before they pulled up to the station. “My house is right there,” I pointed out. He said he’d never had that happen before. Thanks for sharing the story.
Thank you, Vicki! Cakes on a train are way better than snakes on a plane!