All Aboard For Tiny Train Celebration

They called it a swap meet.

But the model railroaders get-together Sunday at Cavanaugh’s Inn at the Park was really a crowded, good-natured reminder that fooling around with electric trains is much more than a hobby. It’s the basis for membership in a time-honored subculture.

Sure, lots of the hundreds of people who jammed the downstairs exhibit hall bought some extra track or new boxcars from the dozens of dealers on hand. But many in the mostly male, mostly adult throng seemed pleased just to be surrounded by so much train stuff.

You know that look people get when they’re handling things that seem to fire their imaginations? It’s not quite a smile. It’s not really a trance. It’s more like hyper-alertness.

Well, that expression was in evidence everywhere Sunday.

More than a few people wore things like T-shirts that said “The Milwaukee Road” or “Great Northern Railway” caps. And to the uninitiated, it might have seemed that many of the conversations were conducted in a language other than English.

“Soo Line?”

“Nah. Rock Island.”

There were train videos, train posters, old magazines about trains. You name it.

Several tables featured nothing but little houses and buildings that can adorn your electric train layout.

A little water tower complete with tiny graffiti decals (“Disco sucks!”) was on sale for $15.

Around noon, two guys in denim jackets were about to leave. But one of them, a big man with a bushy beard, had one last stop in mind.

“I want to pass by those two Union Pacific engines one more time,” he said. “I hate to leave when I’ve still got some money.”

A few guys squinted at the merchandise in a way that made it tempting to guess that maybe they hadn’t been up out of the basement very often this winter.

Others paid their $3 to get in and quickly started buying things.

But nobody stood up and declared “Hi, my name is John. I’m a model railroader and it has been two minutes since I last bought a caboose.”

It’s a pastime, not an addiction.

Still, some people hear that simulated train-whistle sound and their pulse quickens.

Upstairs, not far from a sign pointing the way to the swap meet, a woman with a paperback waited.

“I’m a train widow,” she said, smiling. , DataTimes MEMO: Being There is a weekly feature that visits gatherings in the Inland Northwest.