New Station Doesn’t Have Old Bustle

The words used to have power.

They were an invitation to ride off into the American experience.

“To Trains.”

Now they’re just a sign, shiny raised metal letters on a salmon backdrop.

And at the handsome but awkwardly named Spokane Intermodal Facility - the combination bus station/rail depot at the east end of downtown - the passenger trains only come and go in the middle of the night.

So at lunchtime Thursday, the only people in the bright ground-floor Amtrak waiting area were the ghosts of Christmas Travel Past and a woman in a long gray coat off by herself in a corner. She sat on one of the classic-looking tan benches, right next to a window that framed a view of the old steam plant smokestacks.

Near her was a wall display, showing stuff you could buy in the store up on the second level. T-shirts, back-scratchers, aspirin and a button reading “My next big break will probably be my hip.”

The next train was due in 12 hours.

Still, a ticket agent occasionally emerged from a back room and stepped up to the counter and stood next to a computer monitor. “Taking the train?” he cheerfully asked a guy wearing a backpack. “No, you get the bus tickets over on the other side.”

The scene repeated itself several times before he disappeared into the back room again. He was nice about it every time.

Paul McCartney’s voice came through speakers in the ceiling. “Simply having a wonderful Christmastime … “

Two women and a guy who all seemed to be about 20 came downstairs from the bus-arrival area. They debated the merits of calling for an airport shuttle vs. taking a cab.

Soon they were out the front door, still trying to decide.

The woman in the train waiting area got up and left. And a few minutes later, a man with long black hair sat down not far from where she had been. He was quietly talking to himself, muttering like someone confirming his memorization of the preamble to the Constitution.

After five minutes, he left, too.

The Amtrak agent came back out to the counter. A guy in a jean jacket asked him for change.

Then a woman with white hair lugging a big suitcase tottered in his direction. “Wanting to buy a ticket for the train?” he asked before she reached the counter. “No, you purchase bus tickets over there.”

, DataTimes MEMO: Being There is a weekly feature that visits gatherings in the Inland Northwest.