Union Station, 8:15 pm

The actual station itself, not the grand entryway full of shops and polished marble, is not particularly large or nice. At the far end is a small McDonalds the modeled after the old hamburger stands of the forties and fifties. A line of people snakes around from the door all the way to the back of the holding area. It is 8:30 and the train should already be boarding.

"We are going to begin by boarding elderly passengers, families with small children and One Pass customers."

The door opens and, predictably everyone tries to rush through. The conductor, a distinguished looking man in his late forties, closes the door, and shakes his head.
"We are going to do this in an orderly way or not at all."

"I feel like am in kindergarten," a woman mutters.
In the front a couple of college kids take off their backpacks and prepair for a wait. A couple with three small children hustled up to the door, which once again swings open.
After a rather painful ten minutes, the rest of the line makes its way through the door.

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