I was not used to taking trains, especially not commuter trains. The only train I’d ever really taken was the train at the zoo that takes you around to all the different animals so you don’t have to walk. Commuter trains are way too intense, mostly because the same people ride them every single morning. That’s the suburban routine, a manifestation of the American dream. You live in a nice family house in the suburbs, and every morning, you kiss your children goodbye, pour a nice big travel mug of coffee, get on a train, and ride it to your fancy office in the city. It’s literally the same people you’re traveling with every morning. They all stand in the same spot on the train platform so they can hop on the same car and get to the same seat, where they read the same newspaper over and over every day until they die. It’s terrifying to witness. One morning that summer, on my birthday no less, my mom called me from home to wish me a happy birthday because she’d been asleep when I left. She barely made it to the second stanza before the woman behind me violently tapped me on the shoulder to scold me for taking a phone call on the “quiet car.” I was quiet car shamed! On my own birthday! Commuter trains are intense.