Train stations have never been the most inviting of places. Early morning commuters drape themselves over railings like wet rags, bleary-eyed and in need of caffeine. We spring to life with the arrival of each train, jostling for position in front of the doors like polite linebackers. That is, if we’re not making a mad dash up and down stairs because we just found out our train is arriving on a different track.
All of us dread that telltale beep from the speakers that precedes an announcement. Nothing good ever follows. (“BEEP: Free muffins on the last two cars today!”) Instead, we feel the Pavlovian pull of despair as we wait for the bad news and pray it isn’t our train that’s delayed.