I took a train back to the city on New Year's Eve. It was an Amtrak, which is the closest we come in America to genuine commuter rail. It was a four hour journey, give or take 30 minutes, which was bearable, until a random child sat next to me for the last hour. I didn't love that. Also I was running on about 3.5 hours of sleep. When the train arrived at Union Station (incidentally, I'd like to write a collection of short stories called Union Station, where all the stories meet at one point or another. Like a union station. It's basically a metaphor) I got to experience my favorite thing, which is walking up the narrow walkway between the train platforms and into the station proper. It feels like a remnant of the 19th Century, in a way that I find thrilling. I knew I was supposed to take the Brown Line north to the station nearest my apartment, but when I got to the platform, I saw only an Orange Line train. Luckily, I heard the robot announcer voice say "This is...