(Perhaps a part II of Walk)

Trains rumble by; sometimes slowly, other times with enough momentum to force a blast of air in their wake. I stand on the platform watching the world. There are a smattering of people in my vicinity. Some are alone staring off into space while others are reading or listening to their music players. Some, the gods help them, are talking loudly on their phones while they are also reading and listening to their music players and commenting on all of the other idiots surrounding them. I do my best to ignore them, but it's tough okay?

I pick a train that has nicely rumbled to a stop and kindly opened its doors. How can you not get on a train when it is so inviting? I take an open seat in an open row; the train is less than full, which makes me more than happy. The train is flowing south along the eastern banks of a great river (er, estuary, even if that's not in its name). I'm on the western side of the train in a window seat (also taking up the aisle seat… because I can). I get to stare at the large body of water as we skim across dry land. The sun might be thinking of setting, but it still has some day life left to its light. Or is it light to its life?

We occasionally grind to a stop while people get on and off the train. The conductor is one of those ones that seems happy for no apparent reason. He is pretty funny. Some people are rude to him anyway, but most people won't mess with him. You can't. He's funny, and he can kick your ass from the train. That's a sizable advantage over anyone.

The train has started to fill up. At one station I have to grudgingly give up one of my two precious seats. Thankfully I'm allowed to keep one of them. I shift over fully to the window seat and pretend I'm still alone. The person next to me helps out by pretending I don't exist, although again thankfully not by trying to sit in the seat I happen to occupy. That would be taking things too far.

The train goes underground. There's not much to watch anymore. I think I might have fallen asleep for a little bit. I check my watch that doesn't exist and decide the train is running a little behind schedule, not that they would ever admit to it. The train you are waiting for is not late, the jedi says.

Sooner or later the train stops and belches its inhabitants out into the belly of Grand Central. My mind switches into NYC mode and my body kicks into gear. I walk about three times faster than is necessary and artfully dip and dive through the exiting crowds on my way to someplace else. I'm not sure where I'm going, but I'm going to get there in a hurry. As usual, my mind is temporarily stunned with the openness of the main terminal; I fight the desire to look up at the constellations way up high on the ceiling. I meander around the center clock, pretending to be looking for someone. As strange as it is, on any given day there's a decent chance that I'll find someone I know. And I don't know that many people.

I tire of the game and pick an exit at random. The streets await me.