There’s something about public transit, particularly train systems, that seeps into the riders. Little facts that make getting around easier. “You’re waiting for the R3? It’s always late,” they’ll say, or they’ll be able to tell you which stop is next by looking out the window in what looks like total blackness. Routines do that to you, I guess.
I was on a train last week, not my usual evening train--which is a short turned local train that ends one stop past mine--that only has two intermediate stops before my stop, and as we were getting of the train, a group of regular shad a conversation that resembled the following. I suppose I should also preface this by saying that we were all sitting near a person who discussed their health insurance coverage woes at great depth and volume with their seatmates.
“It’s nice to take these express trains, I usually just get on whatever’s next.”
“If this counts as express.”
“I mean, it’s better than the ones that stop at--”
[unison] “--North Broad.”
See, there’s this stop in northern Philadelphia that a lot of trans pass, but very few stop at, and hardly anyone gets on or off at. It’s near a subway stop too, which decreases it’s usage. It’s main purpose, I think, is to irritate those of us who *just want to get where we’re going.
It’s also, apparently, good for allowing irritated and tired commuters to commiserate over the unreclaimable minutes of their lives that they loose on a regular basis. It’s these kinds of interactions and phenomena that make urban living so attractive.