Hogwarts Express

Princeton Station

Joy catching the Dinky

Another claim to fame of Princeton University, which is also evidence of its privileged background, is that its campus has been served, since 1865, by a commuter rail line, known as the Dinky Line, dedicated exclusively to bringing passengers back and forth between Princeton University and Princeton Junction, located about 3 miles southeast of Princeton, where one can catch a train to Newark, New York City, and other destinations on the Northeast Corridor Line.  The five-minute train ride in a two-car, clunky, antiquated train seems to take one back through time; for every freshman coming to the university for the first time, whether from the States or a foreign country, the experience on the Dinky is an indispensable part of the initiation process, like taking the Hogwarts Express to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Aside from its nostalgic quality, the train service is very reliable, convenient, and economical - round trip fare to Penn Station, New York, about a 90-minute ride from Princeton Junction, is $33, which is really unbeatable for practically a door-to-door service.  (In spite of New Jersey Transit's effort to "derail" the train service and replace it with a bus system, and PU's own proposal to move the Princeton Station 460 feet south of its current location on campus to make way for a new arts complex, sparking outcry from locals, students, and alumni alike, the train will continue its time-honored service for the foreseeable future.) 


Speaking about trains, our experience riding the commuter trains to New York and back for the first time deserves a brief mention here.  On our trip up there, upon sitting down in the crowded car where everybody seemed to be wrapped up in his or her own private world accessible only through ear-buds, we heard a couple of loud, angry, New York style, shouts of "Q U I E T !!!  THIS IS A QUIET CAR!" directed to an innocent-looking guy saying goodbye to someone on the phone.  We looked at one another, were glad that we didn't commit the faux pas of opening our mouths inadvertently, and rapidly scanned the car to locate a sign which might identify it as being a "Quiet Car." To our complete mystification, we could not find any.  I figure that keeping one's mouth shut on a long commuter train ride is probably the best policy, especially during the morning commutes to work when almost everybody is, understandably, in a bad mood.  


We were also confronted with a series of mysteries on our return journey from Penn Station.  After a frantic search to locate the NJT lines, we found ourselves in a hall with a series of closed, narrow, double doors, identified by what looked to be platform numbers above them and a couple of TV monitors which supposedly would inform one which platform to go to board one's train. There happened to be a group of foreign teenagers, apparently over-stimulated by a day's fun at the great metropolis, scattered on the floor in front of each pair of the doors, singing kumbaya and generally carrying on without regards to the world around them.  To our dismay we found that platform information, as if with the intention of causing havoc, was withheld from passengers until a couple of minutes before boarding time.  We parked ourselves in front of one of the doors, chosen at random, and I eyed the narrow double doors uncomfortably, anticipating the stampede to come when the platform information was announced.  All of a sudden, a roar of "number 9 [3/4]" erupted from the group of kids, a mad dash toward a stairway somewhere ensued, away from the doors marked "9", leaving a few old folks like us standing in front of the number 9 door looking bewildered. These turned out to be doors to small elevators which would take one directly down to the designated platforms.


After boarding the train, it soon became apparent that there was no A/C at all and that nobody was observing the silence etiquette, perhaps because it was not a "Quiet Car" or that it was so late that nobody cared.  At various stops along the way, the conductor repeatedly instructed the disembarking passengers to move to the very front of the train as only the door on the first train would open to allow passengers to get off.  Why it had to be so was quite unaccountable.  Later we learned from a conductor collecting tickets that we were in the only car in the mighty long train where the A/C was not working, but he said he would "reset it" when he "got a chance." It got intolerably hot instead, and we finally moved to a different car, a long way from where we were, to the front of the train.   When we finally arrived at the Princeton Junction, thinking that we were well positioned to be near the doors which would likely open, we were told, as if by a sheer caprice, that all doors would open at that station.  We ended up getting off at the far end of the platform and had to march a long distance to get off and on to another platform to catch the train back to Princeton.


P.S.: I wonder whether our next train experience will be less mysterious.  
P.P.S.: I just went to the station to take a picture of the Dinky and was alarmed to find that it was out of service.  Could it be that its demise is drawing near?