Circus employees eat, sleep and travel on 61-car train
The bone-in rib-eye was prepared medium, almost rare. The beef’s red juices flowed recklessly on a white plate after each slice of the knife.
I didn’t consider adding salt and pepper as I devoured the steak placed before me. I was successful, even after a small choking incident. More on that later.
On Tuesday, I had lunch on the Pie Car of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey train. The train isn’t just the mode of transportation for the circus performers and staff; it’s also where they live while touring the country. And the Pie Car is their cafeteria or dining hall, the place where Mike Vaughn and his staff cook to order.
I didn’t consider adding salt and pepper as I devoured the steak placed before me. I was successful, even after a small choking incident. More on that later.
On Tuesday, I had lunch on the Pie Car of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey train. The train isn’t just the mode of transportation for the circus performers and staff; it’s also where they live while touring the country. And the Pie Car is their cafeteria or dining hall, the place where Mike Vaughn and his staff cook to order.
From grilled cheese to cheeseburgers to steaks, one can request just about anything when the rail car is open, including breakfast all day. Cooks also will “Torres” any item.
“That just means they want an egg on that,” Vaughn said, referring to the family of motorcycle daredevils who put seven bikes into a 16-foot sphere and then race around at 70 miles per hour.
The family, from Paraguay, always asks for eggs on their food.
Though I was tempted, I didn’t ask for an egg, and I didn’t ask Vaughn or his two assistants to clean the grill before they made our steaks. But that’s something the Pie Car staff will do for those who don’t eat pork.
Each morning, 71/2 gallons of coffee — Starbucks coffee! — is brewed, and about four dozen pastries are baked, Vaughn said, handing me a freshly brewed cup as the meat hissed on the grill. The aroma tickled my nose.
The train is parked in a bleak train yard that stretches parallel to Shop Road. Two buses, which also travel on the train, ferry circus performers to and from the arena and places like Walmart, Keith Anderson said.
Anderson is referred to as the trainmaster. What Johnathan Lee Iverson, the colorfully dressed ringmaster who ate lunch in his regal attire, does in the ring, Anderson does for the train.
Anderson has a crew of 14 — and a Ford F-250 truck that he drives in train yards and cities around the country. Six years ago, he gave away his apartment and furniture to travel with the circus.
“I’m single,” said Anderson, who has half a train car to himself for his living quarters. “All I’ve got is my dog. A lot of people have animals on the train.”
Trash bags were tied to rails outside the rail car doors, as were wooden steps to make climbing aboard easier.
Andre McClain, the cowboy host of the circus pre-show, cracked jokes while we waited to eat. Miguel Angel Juan, a clown from Puerto Rico, allowed me to touch my first pair of clown shoes. Actually, he was the first clown I’ve ever spoken to. Those who have a fear of clowns need to meet this guy, a clown who would destroy Pennywise, quietly, with kindness.
I don’t know what it suggests, but Iverson, McClain and Juan ordered salmon. The rest of us along for the ride ordered steak.
My steak came with thinly sliced vegetables and the softest baked potato ever placed before me. After the first bite, it was like I was racing — until I had no choice but to slow down.
A large piece of meat became lodged in my throat. After a failed attempt to wash it down with Coke, I realized I was in trouble, so I stood up, choking violently. That’s what it felt like. David Cox of the Colonial Life Arena and others asked if I was OK, if I was kidding. Since I can’t turn blue like some of you, there wasn’t proper indication that I couldn’t breathe.
Cox performed the Heimlich maneuver, and the piece of meat slithered like a snake into the white napkin I was holding, which was then folded and tossed into a trash can.
But there wasn’t time to dither about the death-defying experience witnessed by colleagues and performers from The Greatest Show on Earth, because I had to finish the steak.
It was that good. And I was still quite hungry.
“That just means they want an egg on that,” Vaughn said, referring to the family of motorcycle daredevils who put seven bikes into a 16-foot sphere and then race around at 70 miles per hour.
The family, from Paraguay, always asks for eggs on their food.
Though I was tempted, I didn’t ask for an egg, and I didn’t ask Vaughn or his two assistants to clean the grill before they made our steaks. But that’s something the Pie Car staff will do for those who don’t eat pork.
Each morning, 71/2 gallons of coffee — Starbucks coffee! — is brewed, and about four dozen pastries are baked, Vaughn said, handing me a freshly brewed cup as the meat hissed on the grill. The aroma tickled my nose.
The train is parked in a bleak train yard that stretches parallel to Shop Road. Two buses, which also travel on the train, ferry circus performers to and from the arena and places like Walmart, Keith Anderson said.
Anderson is referred to as the trainmaster. What Johnathan Lee Iverson, the colorfully dressed ringmaster who ate lunch in his regal attire, does in the ring, Anderson does for the train.
Anderson has a crew of 14 — and a Ford F-250 truck that he drives in train yards and cities around the country. Six years ago, he gave away his apartment and furniture to travel with the circus.
“I’m single,” said Anderson, who has half a train car to himself for his living quarters. “All I’ve got is my dog. A lot of people have animals on the train.”
Trash bags were tied to rails outside the rail car doors, as were wooden steps to make climbing aboard easier.
Andre McClain, the cowboy host of the circus pre-show, cracked jokes while we waited to eat. Miguel Angel Juan, a clown from Puerto Rico, allowed me to touch my first pair of clown shoes. Actually, he was the first clown I’ve ever spoken to. Those who have a fear of clowns need to meet this guy, a clown who would destroy Pennywise, quietly, with kindness.
I don’t know what it suggests, but Iverson, McClain and Juan ordered salmon. The rest of us along for the ride ordered steak.
My steak came with thinly sliced vegetables and the softest baked potato ever placed before me. After the first bite, it was like I was racing — until I had no choice but to slow down.
A large piece of meat became lodged in my throat. After a failed attempt to wash it down with Coke, I realized I was in trouble, so I stood up, choking violently. That’s what it felt like. David Cox of the Colonial Life Arena and others asked if I was OK, if I was kidding. Since I can’t turn blue like some of you, there wasn’t proper indication that I couldn’t breathe.
Cox performed the Heimlich maneuver, and the piece of meat slithered like a snake into the white napkin I was holding, which was then folded and tossed into a trash can.
But there wasn’t time to dither about the death-defying experience witnessed by colleagues and performers from The Greatest Show on Earth, because I had to finish the steak.
It was that good. And I was still quite hungry.
- By the numbers
61 cars on the train
4 animal cars
2 warehouse cars
19 equipment cars
350 people on the train
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