1/2/2026 Sharing my story as a warning to those with allergy needs considering Amtrak travel.
I had a horrible experience on Amtrak’s City of New Orleans train from Chicago to Carbondale due to my allergies. I have a severe case of Alpha-Gal Syndrome and am mostly fine in public spaces and with fumes, etc., but a patron wearing a particular fragrance was going to cause me huge issues. I was assured by employees at the station that the conductor would be able to help me find a seat away from this patron (seating was unreserved).
I notified the first conductor, who proceeded to tell me to deal with it. I told him I just needed to sit away from the person at whatever cost—that I had an EpiPen and that this was not a minor allergy but a life-threatening one. He again told me to deal with it and to make sure I had my EpiPen. I reiterated the severity, and he yelled in my face in front of everyone. I began shutting down.
I asked his name. He screamed in my face while gesturing to his lapel or pin that he was the conductor—“Conductor, Conductor” was his name—and demanded that I get on the train to get out of the way. I quickly realized this person was in my car and asked to move to any other car. I was willing to move alone and leave the group I was traveling with. They would not allow me to move, deboard the train, or purchase a sleeper car to isolate myself, despite the fact that one was available.
I forced my way into the observation car while having the inevitable reaction. I got up to excuse myself and walked through another car (with empty seats), where another conductor, identified by his name tag as Doug, asked if my ticket had been scanned. I told him I wasn’t sure, but I was having a medical emergency and needed to get through. He reluctantly allowed my passage and went back to work, possibly scanning tickets.
My reaction grew more severe over the next several moments, and when Doug finally approached me, I was fully in allergic mode—dizzy, with facial swelling, a sense of doom, eye swelling, abdominal swelling, nausea, etc. At the same time, or just seconds later, the patron with the scent followed into the observation car, causing further issues. I knew I needed to move, so I tried. When I stood, I collapsed.
This conductor yelled at me. I was on the floor writhing, my throat closing, swelling, and frantic, begging him to please help me. My EpiPen was right out of my reach, and he would not help me get it, nor would he help me up. He yelled that if my medical needs were so severe, I should not be traveling. He yelled that my “theatrics” were scaring other patrons and told me to be quiet.
My husband arrived at that time to help me, and a few other passengers became frustrated with the conductor and helped my husband assist me. Doug may have finally and begrudgingly assisted me, because my memory of that moment is that two sets of hands were on me—one was my husband’s caring touch, and the other was forceful and painful.
My husband and another patron forced their way to take me and my belongings to a car “we weren’t supposed to be in” to get away from the sprays. I took the largest allowable doses of two types of antihistamines and was prepared to use my EpiPen.
Doug re-entered the scene to berate and argue with me that I could not be there. He also repeatedly came to remind me that I could not eat the food in the dining room I was in (which was the absolute least of my worries) and would not stop randomly returning to patronize and harass me—ridiculing my reaction, telling me he “didn’t have a place to move me,” and reminding me how silly I had been—for the remaining five hours of my trip.
My husband did what he could to take control of the argument, but despite our best efforts to get Doug to understand that I could not be fighting right now, he would not stop addressing only me. I was noticeably better once removed from the initial situation, and even then, they kept insisting that I move back. I simply refused and told them they were in direct violation of the ADA.
When we arrived at the station in Carbondale, I asked for the names of the conductors. The woman at the Amtrak counter gave me their names and assured me that accommodations could have been made, but were not. She apologized for their behavior and indicated that this may not have been the first time these conductors—Doug (the man on the train who kept patronizing me) and Dakobe (the one who screamed at me before the train departed)—had chosen not to treat passengers with special needs respectfully.
I have traveled with Amtrak before and had a fabulous experience. I have never encountered these conductors before. I truly feared I would not make it back to my station alive, and they did not care in the least. I will be formally making an ADA report and will follow up with how Amtrak chooses to respond.
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