Introduction—A Near Disaster
Indulgence and Self-will—Recipe for Trouble
The sultry Mid-Western August night made us thankful for our air-conditioned van as we sat in the Osceola, Iowa train depot parking lot, waiting for the arrival of Amtrak's Westbound California Zephyr. Over the past seventy years, the now old, dilapidated passenger station has seen the beginning and ending of countless thousands of travelers' journeys. This night about thirty people, including our son and daughter-in-law, were waiting to board the train.
Among this group we observed one rather boisterous young man of perhaps twenty years of age. In high spirits, talkative even with total strangers, he excitedly and energetically bounded around the parking lot playing Frisbee with some other young people—talking, laughing and yelling at everyone and anyone who would pay attention to him. Before long however, we saw the real reason for his seemingly boundless, boisterous energy. In one hand he held the Frisbee while in the other he held a large bottle of beer.
Because the Zephyr was running behind schedule, long before it arrived, the young man had consumed the contents of several bottles. The effects were soon obvious to everyone. Tired and hot from his exertions, overcome by the alcohol he had been consuming, the previously talkative young man became sullen, silent and sleepy.
Finding the hot, stuffy non-air conditioned atmosphere inside the depot oppressive, the drunken young man moved outside to the passenger platform at the front of the station. Dropping his duffel bag and sitting down on the cool concrete slab, he soon fell into an alcohol induced slumber.
Directly above where he sat a large sign was posted on the brick wall. It read; "Danger—no one allowed on passenger platform until boarding time". Though the sleeping youth had obviously disregarded the sign's message—one of the "reasons" for its warning was at that very moment just a few miles away, rushing inexorably towards him.
The width of the Osceola depot passenger platform, between the building and the railroad tracks is a scant 10 feet—perhaps a bit less.
The dual set of shining steel rails that pass there, form the main Burlington Northern-Santa Ff RR central U.S. freight route from the West Coast to Chicago. One of the many regularly scheduled trains that pass through every 24 hours is a 100 car unit coal train. Each 60 foot long hopper car is loaded with Montana coal being shipped to industrial consumers in the mid-central US. As the young man slumbered, this train was steadily moving closer, now scant minutes from the Amtrak depot.
If trains are running on schedule, approximately 20 minutes before west-bound California Zephyr #6 arrives at Osceola, the eastbound section of this unit coal train rumbles through at 50 m.p.h.. Though this unremarkable speed is 30 m.p.h. slower than Amtrak trains travel, so heavy is its tonnage, that when passing by, even the ground of the parking lot behind the depot trembles. Stopping the forward motion of such an immense mass would require well over half a mile. Thus, for the safety of those boarding Amtrak or for anyone else in the station area, the platform is considered "off limits" area at all times—except when passengers embark or disembark from the temporarily halted Zephyr.
That night the station agent, hearing the distant blast of diesel horns announcing the coal train's approach, made a quick check to insure that no one was on the platform. Looking out the door, he was surprised to see the sleeping young man. he yelled out a warning, "Hey fella! Get back inside the station. Quick!" But even as the nearby street crossing signal lights began to blink in rhythm with the loud clanging of their warning bells, the young man remained huddled in his unresponsive drunken stupor.
By this time, the white and black striped crossing safety bars had lowered across the road and the headlights of the oncoming locomotive could be easily seen in the near distance-except by the sleeping young man.
Seeing that his warning cry had received no response, the agent left the station door and ran to the still insensible form. Bending over, he yelled one last warning and then hurried for safety along side the building. The agent's last cry finally roused the sleeper. Frowning and grumbling surly disapproval, he looked around to see why the agent had so rudely awakened him. Then, seeing the train, he began to hurriedly rise in an attempt to get away from the danger.
The massive freight train got to him first.
A thundering roar mingled with the rushing wind and ground vibrations together announced the unexpected arrival of this onrushing, steel goliath to the groggy youth. In drunken clumsiness he stumbled, dropping his duffel bag. Hesitating, he awkwardly turned to pick it up. At that moment, the full force of the passing blast of wind mingled with airborne dust, dirt and debris struck him squarely in the face.
Now fully awake and cursing in discomfort, the frustrated young sleeper turned his back to the train and stumbled unsteadily to safety, blinking uncomfortably as he rubbed the dusty grit from his already irritated eyes.
From the security of the side of the passenger depot, the agent and several of us who witnessed this event, could only silently stand, shaking our heads as we looked at each other.
I doubt that young man, even after this experience, realized how close he had come to a much greater tragedy. Unless he learned a critically important lesson that night, the attitude he displayed and the life-style he was apparently living, seemed destined to bring even greater sorrow into his young life.