(The following article by Christiana Sciaudone was posted on the Los Angeles Times website on October 20.)
LOS ANGELES — The train passengers leaving Union Station jostle about, squeezing by each other with plates stacked high with tamales, taquitos and buffalo wings. Headed toward San Bernardino on a Metrolink train, they hustle in the compressed space, grabbing another slice of pizza or a bit of smoked salmon. They talk of sports and shout over conversations to pass another soda.
At the center of the party is Lucy Reinhardt-Ulatowski, doling out egg rolls, homemade broccoli salad and sandwiches, which she spent hours making the night before.
When Reinhardt-Ulatowski began commuting by Metrolink in 2001 — a grueling five-hour round-trip commute from Victorville to downtown Los Angeles — she worried it would be painfully monotonous. On her first few trips, she stared out at the passing landscape of foothills, warehouses and housing tracts as her fellow commuters read, typed on their laptops and listened to music.
“It was kind of scary, all by yourself,” she said, “trying to look cool.”
But over time, she began chatting with the people in her car, conversations that evolved into relationships. Today, the friendships she forged during those long commutes are stronger than those at work or in her suburban subdivision.
She and her train friends organize potluck parties aboard the trains, vacation together and socialize off the tracks. And when one member of the extended family was seriously injured in a bicycle accident last year, Reinhardt-Ulatowski held a fund-raiser to help him.
Reinhardt-Ulatowski is part of what transit experts say is a small but remarkable subculture that has developed inside Southern California’s commuter trains. What starts as a smile and a nod unfolds into in-depth discussions of football and families.
Metrolink, which operates the region’s commuter trains, has at least three rail cars in its network in which groups have organized. The “party trains” are definitely the exception; most Metrolink riders use their commute for more singular pursuits, such as reading, paying bills or working on their laptop computers.
But train officials and others are intrigued by how these groups form and the lasting bonds of these commuter friendships.
“People tend to sit in the same place every day, and as they see each other again and again, they start talking,” Metrolink spokeswoman Sharon Gavin said. “It’s a way to de-stress about your day before you get home. By the time you get home, you don’t really have to complain to your family.”
The groups formed spontaneously without any help from Metrolink, but “it’s something that we encourage,” Gavin said. “Get to know your fellow riders. It adds a level of humanness to the commute.”
Until last year, the friendships on Reinhardt-Ulatowski’s train were casual, confined to potlucks and occasional vacations.
Then, one of her fellow commuters, Mike Yanez, was critically injured when a car struck his bicycle. He was unconscious for 16 days. Doctors put plates in his cheeks, reconstructed his eyebrows, and repaired his jaw and his nose. The dog groomer also required knee surgery.
News of the accident traveled fast on the train. Yanez stood out because he often lugged his bike aboard.
“The more we found out about him and how badly he’d been hurt,” Reinhardt-Ulatowski said, “the more we wanted to do something for him.”
She started a collection to send a get-well card. Then she and other riders held a raffle onboard, and with the money raised, they bought him a new bike and helmet.
They surprised Yanez with the bike when he returned.
“I was touched. … Not everybody does stuff like that,” he said.