One of the things I like most about riding the train is the fact that you have to fight to get a seat every day. There are no guarantees.
The nerves always jump as the train pulls up. Some people will get off opening up a few seats. You can almost always count on the middle seats being available. This seat is no different than one on airline; you’re squeezed with limited elbow space.
Standing is always an option too but most days you just want to sit and and relax. The goal of the any train ride is to just be as comfortable as possible.
Riding the train, finding a seat or the most optimal one, is a reminder that life is a Darwinian struggle. Each day provides unique scenarios that force you to adapt, get smarter or more accepting of the way things are.
The uncertainty of a train commute is so unnecessarily stressful it makes you stronger, builds anticipatory muscle. That lesson may be worth the price of the monthly ticket.
Every morning the train conductor counts the number of people that exit the train. He wants to make sure everyone paid.
As a customer, you just become a tally like everyone else. There’s no rewards program or special treatment for years of traveling. You don’t get any recognition at all.
A lot of people carry on there lives like another click, another meaningless cog in a controlled system of service. You deserve better.
Life is one part showing up consistently, another part doing the work and standing out. The commute may be the desultory part. Once you step up off the train, you must take positive action.
Prove to the world that you’re a consistent doer, and you can tally up your own success and get recognized for it just as you deserve.
Still frames of the cracked tiles and yellow light bulbs are broken up by close-ups of those waiting for the train: a man adjusting his wedding ring, the intense focus on a woman’s scarf just before a train comes speeding past her, billowing it up and away from her hair.