“Welcome to the Philadelphia 30th Street Station,” said the recorded voice. Seated on wooden benches in one of the most beautiful waiting rooms I’ve ever seen, people all around scurry past as though there’s no time to stop for a breath. They certainly are not admiring the stained glass and soaring ceilings above them as they hustle to the train or bus that awaits.

The bench is smooth but hard and provides a terrific perch for people watching.

It is noisy. A cacophony of announcements and voices compete for my attention. It smells oddly of fried chicken. 

The air is electric with energy. Reunions and departures are both joyous and bittersweet. There’s nothing sadder than watching someone wave excitedly as their loved one slips out of sight and then turn with tears in their eyes as they walk alone toward the exit.

Arrivals and departures. Life is full of them and the 30th Street station is a spectacular microcosm of what that looks like. 

On the train, we meet Mike and Tom. Mike is a former high school journalism student of Tom’s. We learn lots about them and I’m impressed that, though retired, Tom still writes for a paper in Pittsburgh. We’ll never see them again but making that connection with a couple of strangers who will come and go in the span of a seven hour train ride is pretty gratifying. 

The train rocks forcefully down the track as the landscape flies by. First, city neighborhoods followed by suburban homes that stretch further and further apart, giving way to a patchwork of small towns, thick forests and the lush green pastures of Amish country. 

A train ride is one of the most insightful ways to see the nation, cutting through areas where there are no roads and where suburban sprawl has blessedly  feared to tread. You will occasionally catch glimpses of signs identifying a place but mostly aren’t sure where you are. Formerly grand homes, now decrepit, line the track looking like once fancy porcelain dolls that are now dressed in rags. Clothing hangs neatly on the line outside tidy Amish homes. Piles of industrial junk sit outside abandoned foundaries. People wait at stations in towns like Latrobe and Johnstown that taunt me to jump off the train and explore on foot – even for just a little while.  

A church spire or the glimpse of a brick street is enough for me to note the town to perhaps explore on a future road trip. But for now, I’ll sit tight in my nice business class seat and enjoy the perspective that I’ll never find via car. 

A fresh perspective is one of the greatest gifts you’ll receive from traveling. I’m back to work after a long holiday weekend of adventure but already considering what’s next.

Have a great day, friends. If you aren’t planning any kind of fun adventures for this fall, get on it now. There’s no need to go far or spend lots but it is important to explore something new any chance you get. 

While you’re at it, do something that will cause you to question what you think you know and embrace a fresh perspective, arriving at a new idea as you depart from old ones.