I had taken the flight from New Orleans to Los Angeles several times and I was always lucky enough to get a window seat. The views of Arizona and the Mojave Desert are breathtakingly beautiful from this altitude; the topography of those vast ochre expanses has a certain poetry.
The flight that changed everything for me was the time I had an aisle seat. I contented myself in advance that I would still get glimpses of those ochre expanses and read my newspaper in the abundant desert sunshine.
To my dismay the woman in the window seat had the shade halfway down, making it difficult to see any expanse without craning my head in an uncomfortable way. She herself seemed halfway asleep. So I looked across the aisle and sadly everyone had their shades down all the way. What the heck? Well I guess everyone was feverishly looking at their phone or laptop and didn't want any natural light to distract them.
At least there was a burst of light coming in through my seat mate's half-open window, enough to pleasantly read my newspaper by. But no sooner had I started enjoying my paper than she abruptly shut the window all the way, immediately returning to her half sleep.
This made for a miserable flight and afterwards I lost no time calling the CEO's of a dozen major airlines and the Administrator of the FAA. Being intelligent people they listened to my story and proposal for a solution. To my satisfaction they said they would immediately go forward with my idea, a brilliant one that they said they wished they had thought of sooner.
So the major airlines decided to offer two kinds of planes: window and windowless. They recognized the vampiric tendencies of a huge percentage of their market, the alienated, tech-addicted folks who valued neither light nor fresh air and who would just as well be shot through space in a windowless metal tube. Then there was the window market: people who felt that the very best thing about flying was beholding the earth from altitudes that one normally doesn't. This was a perspective that most pilots could appreciate, along with astronauts, scientists, artists, photographers and sensitive souls in general.
The population for the most part promptly divided itself into two camps, a little bit like Apple vs. PC. (Ironically in this metaphor Apple is windows and PC is windowless). It was a little less expensive to fly windowless, so the majority of the people flew that way.
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Much as I enjoy seeing the earth from thousands of feet in the air, my preferred mode of travel is train. And as with the plane, part of my enjoyment is to have a look at my country out the window. Train windows are large, and there is even a car dedicated to gazing out even larger windows - the observation car.
Imagine my shock then when while on board a westbound train everyone in my car but me had their curtains drawn. As with the plane, people were either glued to their devices or sleeping. It wasn't even sunny out - rather it was snowing in a most beautiful way. There was a muted, atmospheric light that was perfect to read by. What was wrong with these people?
As in the case of the plane, I lost no time in calling the heads of Amtrak and the Department of Transportation. I described to them my experience, and also explained that I was the author of the windowless planes program. We discussed safety issues. In the end we agreed: if people want to travel like cattle, let them travel like cattle. It would be offered as a less expensive option.
Interestingly, in the case of the train, the inverse of the plane was true: most riders wanted windows, but a lower percentage had no use for them, preferring to be packed into a windowless container at a lower rate.
A third option was put on the market at my suggestion: "boxcar hobo", in which the conditions of the old boxcar era were mimicked. This was an even smaller share of the market, but hugely popular among a certain crowd. Old wooden cars with bales of hay to recline on, loaves of bread and bottles of craft beer disguised as moonshine, and a booming subculture of "dressing like a hobo" made this uniquely American niche market thrive.
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I would like to say that my work improving the transportation system was done, but there was one more issue to address after having one more ridiculous experience.
I was on the Sunset Limited train from New Orleans to Los Angeles. Being in a hurry I did not have time to buy a newspaper in New Orleans. My habit is to read USA Today, but if that is not available I get whatever local paper I can.
I figured I could pick one up in Houston, where the train stops for about an hour. Now for a major city Houston has a minor train station that resembles a bus station or 7-11, with the difference that you can actually buy a newspaper at a 7-11.
The fact is that most major train stations in this country have newsstands, so I couldn't figure out what was the deal with Houston. But it got even worse than that.
Not only did the station not sell newspapers, but I wandered approximately a mile in the 100 degree heat looking for one in vain. This was after a policeman pointed me in the direction that I would "most likely" find one.
Houston, we have a problem.
The following day the train stopped in El Paso for about an hour. El Paso feels like a big city partly because it has a grandiose old train station, big enough to fit half a dozen Houston stations.
The station is beautiful but the interior is cavernous, offering only restrooms and brochures to the curious visitor. How difficult would it be to put a newsstand in here?
Bear in mind, newsstands sell not only newspapers, but books, magazines, snacks, beverages and everything that the captive audience of a long distance train ride wants.
Later in the ride we stopped in Tucson, Arizona and there they got it right - a beautiful old station with a marketplace selling mainly food but also copies of the Arizona Republic.
When I got to Los Angeles I lost no time in calling Amtrak and told them that if Houston and El Paso did not get newsstands soon I would set them up myself. They agreed that it was a business opportunity and offered to set up a partnership with me. We decided to call the business Sunset News, and its mission statement was to provide newspapers and other sundries to rail passengers in Texas.
And that, my friend, is how newspapers got reintroduced to Texas.
- copyright 2018 by P.T. Gachot
