Train Stations

The worst part of train travel is hardly ever the train itself, but the train station. In New York City, for example, I frequent Grand Central. I love Grand Central! I show up about 10 minutes before the train leaves and the screen in the main hall tells me where to go. Some people are running around to catch their trains that are about to leave but even if they miss the train another will come in 20-40 minutes. Easy, breezy, and the interior is beautiful. The worst part—because the station is still the worst part—is that there is no seating. As someone who is clinically diagnosed as an early person, I often linger by the closed ticket booths waiting for my track to get announced, knowing I will be able to get a nice seat. Still, I don’t mind waiting! I have the painted ceiling and décor of the 1910s to admire. To be fair, that turquoise color they used as backdrop for the constellations could bring tears to my eyes and stomach bile to my mouth, but I respect the vision. For anyone who hasn’t seen Grand Central themselves, I would recommend watching the 2005 animated movie Madagasgar where the giraffe character—played by David Schwimmer—gets his head stuck in the clock at the center of the room atop the info center. It really does the station justice.

On the off chance I am travelling by train a little further than upstate New York or Connecticut, I am forced to the dreaded Penn Station, or Moynihan Train Hall, or both? I still am unsure of what the distinction is for. I feel like the Madagasgar gang should’ve gone to Penn Station instead because it is feral there. Every man, woman, and child for themselves watching the board for their track to be announced; then it’s a sprint. Of course, there are no seats in the Amtrak area so when the track is posted people scramble up from the floor, grabbing their bags and loved ones to drag them to an escalator in the middle of the room. There is no attempt at beauty here, only the harsh light that has been on since 5 in the morning and the palpable animosity between complete strangers. My fight or flight is activated in Penn Station, and I never choose fight. Now before my train gets to DC, there’s just one last thing and then I swear to god I’ll shut up about this forever, despite the horror of Penn Station, at least I didn’t have to go to a freaking airport.