Helper

     So I don't currently own a car, but I needed transportation from Price to West Jordan. I had seen what looked like a passenger train drive through the other day and decided to look into that. I found that there was indeed an Amtrak station that would take me up to Provo, where I could get picked up and driven back to the WJ. So I booked my ticket and got ready to go. The only problem is that the station isn't in Price. It's in Helper, the next town over. With a car, this is no problem, but on foot, it would take significantly more time than I had. So I found my extremely generous friend Randy who agreed to drive me to the station.
     We arrive in Helper. I wasn't paying too much attention to what was going on outside because I was assigned DJ and had to be choosing the next song, so I didn't get a good look at the town yet. I did note, however, that the speed limit of the entire city seems to be only 15mph. There was construction in the way to get to the train station, so Randy told me that's as far as he could take me. I grabbed my backpack and got out. As soon as he drove away I took my first look around the small town of Helper's "Main Street."

     It was around 7:00pm, so it was late enough to be dark, but not actually late enough for everyone to be asleep. But that's how it seemed. I could see absolutely nobody, on foot or in cars. Also it was dead silent. Usually when you're near civilization you can always hear an engine running, music playing, something going on. Even when you're in complete wilderness you can at least hear some crickets or birds or something. But the only audible thing was my own breathing as I looked around myself. Every single building looked at least a hundred years old, and some I'm certain are the originals built by pioneers. And they all looked abandoned. It was exactly like a ghost town, except with road construction in the middle of it. And even the construction had ominous looking abandoned excavators.
     I remembered which direction the station was supposed to be in and started walking. My footsteps were like thunder in the silence. I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye and looked just in time to see a silhouette across the street duck silently into the shadows. I looked to my left and saw the train tracks in the distance and a train just visible from behind a building. Assuming that was where I needed to go, I got closer, until I found that the train a saw was just two cars long, and rusty enough that it would probably fall apart if I touched it. The rest of the track was as silent and empty as everything else in Helper. I walked back to Main Street and went down it until I saw a sign with a picture of a train and an arrow pointing down a wide alleyway. Shortly down this alley were some stairs leading up to a building with a dimly lit sign reading, "Amtrak."
      I walk up the stairs and enter the front door to find a room straight out of a horror movie. It had dim, flickering lights and rows of empty, dusty benches that couldn't be newer than sixty years old. It smelled strongly of cigarette smoke. There were two bathrooms, both with no doors, and hadn't been used in so long that cobwebs were hanging off the door frames. An unmarked, locked door sat in the corner, and a large metal back door labeled "Pull". I went to pull the door when I realized there was no handle. So I gave it a push instead and it opened up to take me to the back of the building. Outside, standing around some train tracks were four people. One couple, standing in the shadows to the side, staring motionless into the distance. And then two young boys, both smoking even though I am sure they weren't nearly old enough to do so legally. I thought about saying something but they also looked like they were probably carrying some shanks so I kept to myself and waited.
     Eventually the train showed up. An old man dressed exactly like you imagine a conductor should be dressed was leaning out the window of the front car and yelled as he passed us, "IT'S HERE!" The train slowed and came to a stop, and ten cars down from the front, the conductor stepped out of a door, hollering, "ALL ABOAAARD!!" The only way this old conductor could have gotten from the front to the back of the train that fast is by witchcraft, but I already payed for the ticket so I got on anyway. I climbed up the stairs to my assigned seat. I saw exactly five other people spread out throughout the dark car and every one of them were either asleep or dead. I sat down by the window and prepared for the ride as the train started moving.
     Just then the ticket man came up to me, and I hand him my ticket. He looked at the ticket, then at the numbers on the seats, and then back at the ticket, as his face grew increasingly concerned.

Ticket Man: You're supposed to be in seat 25

Me: Yes.

Ticket Man: But you're sitting in seat 26

Me: Oh, I just wanted to sit by the window.

Ticket Man: Right, but you see, that's not your seat.

Me: [Looking around at how many empty seats there are] I don't think that will make a problem...

Ticket Man: Well we just need you to be in your assigned seat.

Me: Is someone else assigned to 26?

Ticket Man: Not that I know of, but someone might show up.

Me: Well can I just move if that happens then?

Ticket Man: No. It's just our policy, sir. You need to move to your assigned seat number.

     So I moved over to the aisle seat and the Ticket Man walked away, satisfied that he had taken care of any potential trouble I could have caused by sitting next to the window. I leaned my chair back and went to sleep just like everybody else and woke up just in time to get off at my stop in Provo and catch a ride to my WJ home.