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http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-train11oct11,1,3243424.story?coll=la-headlines-california



FRIENDSHIPS FORGED ON RAILS
Often starting with a smile and a nod, some Metrolink commuters are
bonding with fellow riders -- and even throwing parties onboard.

Christiana Sciaudone
Los Angeles Times
October 11, 2004


The train passengers leaving Union Station jostle about, squeezing by
one another 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
eggrolls, 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 on 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 mangled in a bicycle accident last year,
Reinhardt-Ulatowski held a fundraiser to help him out.

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, with most Metrolink riders
using their commute for decidedly more singular pursuits, such as
reading, paying bills or working on their laptop computers.

But train officials and others are intrigued about 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," said Metrolink spokeswoman
Sharon Gavin. "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."

Club cars where commuters socialize have long been a part of the East
Coast train culture, but it's something new to Southern California.

Anastasia Loukaitou-Sideris, chairwoman of UCLA's department of urban
planning, said the groups "attest to the fact that a mode of
transportation like a train is much more of a social mode than a car.
When you are in a train, you have to interact with other people."

That's something Sheila Fisher and other passengers on the Metrolink
between Los Angeles and Orange County discovered.

When she first began her daily travels from Los Angeles to Orange County
eight years ago, Fisher was still mourning the death of her husband.
Sitting alone on the train, she would watch from afar as a boisterous
group huddled farther up her car laughed and chatted every afternoon on
the ride home. It made her feel even lonelier.

One afternoon, the whole group came over. "They said, 'Why don't you
come and join us? We'd like to know who you are,' " Fisher recalled.
"For me, it was like a reawakening. I met more people than I ever had
before."

Since then, Fisher, a 61-year-old Eagle Rock resident who works as a
collections manager for the Orange County Credit Union, has become one
of the group's main party organizers. She played host to 10 people from
her train for a weekend getaway to Rosarito Beach, Mexico, and held
several parties on the train. But the group is now doing more than
socializing. Fisher and others have volunteered together at the Los
Angeles Police Museum and for a nonprofit medical clinic in Lancaster.

"We've helped people write resumes, helped people prepare for
interviews, we've mentored people," Fisher said. "If someone is going to
be out of a job, we network."


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Earlier this year, the party was in full swing on the Metrolink San
Bernardino train.

Weeks earlier, Reinhardt-Ulatowski solicited food for a potluck
celebration, climbing aboard with lists of names, phone numbers and
e-mail addresses.

Wearing a gray pinstripe skirt suit and sneakers, with her $200 monthly
pass secured at her lapel, Reinhardt-Ulatowski parks her rolling
briefcase in a corner of the train car. She moves cautiously among about
30 pairs of knees and bags, and negotiates such items as an
Ambrosia-style salad, green beverages and chicken wings.

Most cars in the train are relatively quiet, but Reinhardt-Ulatowski's
train was bustling.

At the end of one car, two games of dominoes were going. Players rotated
in and out as the train pulled into stations.

Reinhardt-Ulatowski "brings a lot of people together," said Allen Scott
of Fontana, as he watched one of the games.

That's not how she felt when she began taking the train.

Reinhardt-Ulatowski, who worked at Ontario Airport for 10 years as a
police official's secretary, was later promoted to a job in downtown Los
Angeles.

The commute was a big issue, but neither she nor her husband wanted to
give up their 1,600-square-foot home in Victorville, which sits on 1 1/3
acres. Wild quail and rabbits visit them regularly.

"The prices of property are way lower than even Rancho Cucamonga," she
said, of another Inland Empire suburb closer to downtown.

Her daily travels begin at 5 a.m., when she arrives at a Victorville
station and catches a bus to Rancho Cucamonga to the train, which
departs about 6:15 a.m. The train pulls into Los Angeles just over an
hour later. From there, Reinhardt-Ulatowski jumps on another bus, which
delivers her at 7:30 a.m. to 6th and Spring streets, where she works as
an executive secretary for the city.

Each evening, the 85-mile trek is reversed, and she plops down on her
living room couch by 9 p.m.

For a while, her train journeys were lengthy and solitary. Home. Train.
Work. Train. Home. Read the newspaper. Twiddle thumbs. Abandon the
crossword.

Until the scent of chicken reached her empty stomach.

"These guys would get on every day with chicken, and you could smell it
on the whole train," she said. "One day, someone offered me some."

Although she declined the offer, it sparked a conversation.

She met John Kerby, 32, a Ford dealership manager, and Joe Chavez, 48.
They talked football, and Kerby accused Reinhardt-Ulatowski of always
defending the underdog team.

Conversations evolved to talk of families, work and vacations, and soon
the three were planning a trip to Las Vegas.

"When you spend an hour a day on the train, you get to know a person,"
Kerby said at a recent wedding party thrown by Reinhardt-Ulatowski for a
bartender at Union Station. "We spend so much time together, more time
than I spend with my brother or my father."

What started as a few people killing time discussing touchdowns and
field goals became a crew of 40 people � a fraction of the roughly 360
people on the San Bernardino train.

"There are no politics on the train," said Reinhardt-Ulatowski. "No
games to play, no one to compete with or impress."

The San Bernardino line group is made up of people of different races,
ages and professions. People come and go as jobs and schedules change.
But what unites them is the fact that they have long commutes and that
they are trying to make them more tolerable.

Michael Harvey lives in Ontario and takes the train as part of his
commute to Compton.

"It's a lot less stress" to take the train, he said, and factoring in
the cost of gasoline, "this is so much better�. I love watching traffic
go by."

Harvey and the gang can sometimes be a little loud, but they said they
don't get many complaints from others on the train.

"We're just having a good time, and most people understand that we're
just letting off steam," said Harvey, 40, a manager at the Compton Water
Department.


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Until last year, the friendships on the train were casual � confined to
the potlucks and occasional vacations.

Then, one of the commuters, Mike Yanez, was critically injured when a
car struck his bicycle. He blacked out for 16 days. Doctors put plates
in his cheeks, reconstructed his eyebrows, pulled out his jaw and fixed
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," said
Reinhardt-Ulatowski, "the more we wanted to do something for him."

She started a collection to send in 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 to the train. "I was
touched�. Not everybody does stuff like that," he said.

For the group's Fourth of July party, Reinhardt-Ulatowski decked herself
out in a red skirt suit with an American flag shirt and scarf, and
red-white-and-blue earrings.

Reinhardt-Ulatowski stood in the train waiting for the Rancho Cucamonga
stop. "We got through another one," she said. She turned to those riders
left on the train � hers is not quite the last stop.

"You guys, thanks for everything," Reinhardt-Ulatowski said.

"Bye, Lucy."

"Thanks, Lucy."

"We love you, Lucy."

Reinhardt-Ulatowski rolled her eyes.

"You'll see me again," she said. "Tomorrow."