As an Irish person, it all seemed too good to be true. Back home, going to the States is a big deal. You've got to book the flights (hundreds of euros), find insurance, send your passport to the consulate in Dublin, wait for them to get around to giving you a visa and mail your passport back to you, and promise to bring back hoodies from Hollister and pyjamas from Victora's Secret for all friends and loved ones.
I booked online, went to Central Station downtown, (I only had hand luggage so I cycled to the metro and took the underground into town - couldn't believe I was starting my journey to NYC by bike!) picked up my ticket at the Amtrak window and after a quick passport check I was stepping onto the train.
I thought I was in first class by accident - the seats were huge, and reclined almost all the way, with loads of leg space and a small fold-out table plus power point for a computer. We pulled out at 9:30am, and after about 40 minutes, reached the US border.
I was a little nervous here - everyone else on the train seemed to be American or Canadian, and I was sure that despite everyone's assurances, I was supposed to have filled out a form or gotten a stamp somewhere before boarding. The border officials emerged from a building protected by high fences and barbed wire and boarded the train. We were all told to stay in our seats. When our guy got to me, he took an extra-long look at my passport.
"Like to travel, do you?" - he asked, with a very serious face and raised eyebrows, flicking through the foreign visas and coloured stamps in my dog-eared passport. I tried my warmest smile; "Well, Ireland is a pretty small place y'know, so we do like to get out of there and see the world..!" I said sweetly. He asked why I was in Canada, and inspected my work permit. He asked why I was going to the states, and how long I would be staying. Then he said, in a very stern voice, "please come with me to the back carriage".
I was passed to another guard in the snack car. He was younger and seemed a little friendlier. We sat down opposite each other as I wondered whether I should have brought my things with me. I had visions of being marched through the snow - which was now swirling in a nasty blizzard - into an interrogation room while the train pulled out with my warm winter coat on it. There was one other man (he seemed to be Eastern-European) being questioned a few tables down. It didn't seem like it was going too well.
The younger officer looked through my passport and asked the same kinds of questions. He seemed a little confused (suspicious?) and said "So....if your boyfriend is in the States, why did you move to Canada?"
"Good question" I answered.
Two minutes later I had a tourist visa for the States valid for three months. It cost me six dollars and a smile. I had mentioned that I had been to the states before, for New Year's in Vegas, and the young guard replied that he was heading down to Vegas with his girlfriend the following week. When I handed over the money for the visa I winked and said, "now, don't spend this all in one casino!" (It's amazing what the Irish can get away with!)
The next ten hours went by surprisingly quickly and without event - the landscape flying by outside was covered in a thick blanket of white, and the speed of the train made the falling snow look like white noise between the window and the trees and fields behind.
We pulled into some tiny quaint stations along the way (one with two old dames who were SO excited to hear that it was my first time in the States and welcomed me profusely) (Shhh, I don't count the Vegas trip). They offered me juice boxes and cookies for the rest of the journey. The conductor actually had a little hat and a moustache, and I could have sworn he had a whistle around his neck.
At 8pm, the train pulled into Penn Station, and I ran from the platform to meet the subject of the border guards' questions. We jumped on the subway to Brooklyn and were eating burritos 20 minutes later.
Incredible: no taxi to the airport, no
long line for security, no sitting through that bloody safety demonstration, no luggage carousel, no waiting for a shuttle bus from an outlying airport into the city. It was worth giving a day to arrive in old-fashioned comfort - and the best thing is, it cost just $124 (87 euro) return. That's cheaper than the 3-hour trip from Galway to Dublin.
And sorry Dublin, but New York's just better.
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