It doesn't take much to push around the angular borders of the human dense carriage. A bit of excuse me, a bit of elbow, a bit of thank you, and it takes you to a spot more comfortable than before. The keyword is really than before because what things really are later is largely the same thing: squashed, confused sardine conditions. What I really yearn for is that despite the jostling and pushing and cramp and claustrophobic spasms, I have this really nice pole to lean on. It's cold, it's lifeless, it's doesn't give a damn. But at least I can lean on it till I get home.

Get on the train, it's time to move on. How come my feet freezes?