Let’s embark on an epic journey: 37 Hours on the Amtrak Empire Builder
If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to spend 37 hours on an Amtrak train, let me unveil that mystery for you: it’s part epic journey, part sleep-deprived fever dream, and part reality show filmed at 79 mph.
Preparing for the Adventure: Gathering the Crew
We kicked off this grand adventure by assembling our crew from all corners of Oregon. Some of us flew in from Bend, while the ever-intrepid Austin road-tripped his way north from Eugene. He proved once and for all that nothing—nothing—stands between a man and his train dreams (and most likely the Canadian adventure part of this trip…. see blog post).
After a victorious reunion at PDX, we summoned an Uber chariot and zipped over to Portland Union Station, home of Train 28, better known as the Empire Builder. It was in the grandeur of old brick and heavy luggage that we settled in on a hard bench with all the grace of Victorian orphans.
We were blissfully unaware that our Business Class tickets came with actual lounge access. Instead, we parked ourselves in the general terminal like true peasants. We marveled at the human circus around us—which included a man boldly traveling with a giant rubber duck and a life-sized skeleton. Their purpose? Unknown. Their vibe? Unmatched.
The Shocking Discovery: Lounge Access
Thirty minutes and one too many salty snacks later, we had a shocking discovery: we had lounge access all along. Cue the dramatic music! Inside this enchanted realm, we found bottomless coffee, delicious snacks, soft lighting, giant chairs, and—perhaps most importantly—a bathroom with toilet paper. We ascended from bench squatters to lounge royalty in an instant.
All Aboard the Sleeper Car: A 37-Hour Test of Snacks, Sanity, and Shower Physics
Once aboard, we were escorted to our hotel room on rails—our cozy little capsule where we’d be living, laughing, and slowly losing track of reality for the next 37 hours.
Our in-room seats? Softish and reclinable.
Our spirits? Sky-high.
Our snacks? Dangerously low. (One granola bar away from mutiny.)
Now, if you’ve never seen a train sleeper, brace yourself—because you’re in for an adventure. Let’s explore the bedroom, which is the spacious one (a phrase we use here the same way real estate agents say “cozy”). It features:
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A couch that transforms into a double-ish bed (emphasis on ish).
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A top bunk that drops down from the ceiling, complete with a portable ladder and seatbelt-style straps.
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A combo toilet/shower cube that’s essentially a submarine bathroom.
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A sink and exactly 2 square feet of wiggle room for your emotional baggage.
Then there’s the roomette, like the bedroom’s minimalist cousin. It has two seats that morph into a single bed and a pop-down bunk. Roomette guests get to share a bathroom, because nothing builds community like communal shower scheduling at 60 mph.
Shower Adventures: Sliding Around in the Sleeper
Speaking of showers… If you think sleeping on a train is wild (pro tip: it’s like napping in a blender set to “mild salsa”), wait until you try showering while standing up in a moving metal capsule. They have a tiny sign that gently advises, “Showering while seated may be easier.” That’s not a suggestion—that’s survival wisdom.
Naturally, my husband ignored it. There he was, attempting to lather and rinse like a free man. But gravity—and Amtrak—had different plans. Were it not for the door being latched, this brave soul would’ve been yeeted out mid-suds and landed directly in my lap like some kind of sudsy cannonball. Would I have caught him? Emotionally, yes. Physically, we’ll never know.
In the end, the Empire Builder sleeper car was everything we dreamed of: tight quarters, unexpected turbulence, and a newfound respect for stationary plumbing. But hey—what’s an adventure without a little risk of aerial shower acrobatics? 10/10 would recommend. Just maybe pack a seatbelt for the shower.
The Ride: 37 Hours of Zen, Cards & Mild Delirium
Once aboard, we set off on a two-day journey that would forever change our relationship with time, train food, and personal space. We passed snow-dusted mountains, golden plains, ghost towns, and gas stations that probably hadn’t changed since 1974. Every new view felt like a scene from a documentary narrated by Morgan Freeman—if only he occasionally muttered, “Is that a cow or a boulder?”
As we soaked in the scenery like pros, we watched people with the serene wonder of those who had lost all concept of time and space. Our people-watching game was on point—equal parts shock, awe, and mild psychological concern. Every train car was its own reality show. We spotted fashion choices that defied logic, snacks that probably shouldn’t be microwaved, and emotional support pets that may or may not have been taxidermy.
We quickly bonded with the snack car attendant, Snack, the snack king! His tireless dedication to microwaving cup a noodles and doling out chips, cookies, and mixers for adult beverages kept us alive and slightly less feral between meal times.
A Twist We Didn’t Expect
By hour three, we were walking through the train like seasoned professionals—arms out, knees bent, and the grace of drunken ballerinas. Pro tip: if you can make it through five train cars without accidentally sitting in a stranger’s lap, you win!
A glorious twist occurred: Rubber Ducky Guy and Skeleton Sidekick from Portland Union Station? THEY WERE ON OUR TRAIN! Yes, the legend had joined us on this cross-country odyssey. We struck up a delightful conversation with the Duck Whisperer himself. Through the magic of weird train bonding, he bestowed upon us a tiny rubber duck of our very own. Was it adorable? Absolutely. Is it now our emotional support duck? Without question.
Somewhere around hour 25, things got… wobbly. Time lost all meaning. Were we still in Montana? Had we always been in Montana? Was Montana even real? Also: why is pasta on a train always suspicious? It comes out lukewarm, slightly wet, and emotionally complicated. Yet, we ate it anyway. Because at that point, the only thing more unhinged than the train’s suspension system… was us.
Arrival: We Made It. Mostly Intact.
When we finally rolled into Minneapolis-St. Paul, we were equal parts triumphant and slightly fermented. Our minds? A bit wobbly. Our friendships? Fortified by shared snacks and existential dread. Our memories? Anchored by a man, his duck, and his bony companion.
Would we do it again? Absolutely! But next time, we’ll:
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Bring more snacks.
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Read the fine print.
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Take a traveling sidekick with us (rubber duck or skeleton perhaps?).
Until next time, tip of the hat to the Empire Builder for delivering not just transportation, but an unforgettable story. Sometimes, the journey really is the destination. And shoutout to @halfaniceday with your delightful rubber duck and traveling skeleton sidekick! Your enthusiasm for travel adventure and warm greetings (handing out mini ducks to anyone fortunate enough to stop and chat) made the trip even more special.
Stay Tuned for the next blog post in this series: Off to Montreal, Quebec City, and Toronto, Canada!
