We gather in the center of the hanger-like cavity in a sea of eating establishments, staring forward at the station board tracking arrivals and departures. Holding vigil, eyes transfixed, time, route, ETA, track number… with the tick tock of the clock, the schedule changes slowly, delays and track changes noted.

The air is thick with the competing odors of coffee beans and stale fryolator fat. Indigent roam, seeking an encouraging glance, welcoming them in for the ask. Pigeons dive for droppings, French fries, donuts, and cookie crumbs, anything that looks edible. Lakeville, Track Two, Arriving, booms the conductor over the PA,

I stand – seating is limited. I have a 75-minute ride, plenty of time to sit, wishing time away, ready to board. Just in case, the dreaded trip to the ladies’ room. In need of a rehab, the open entry greets with a stale, sour bouquet. Will there be toilet paper? Did it touch the floor? Squat, yes… these are the thoughts that flood my mind… ooh, magic water, is that urine on the floor? Do I really have to go? Get the business done, manipulate the suitcase around the door, people, and the sink. Quick, wash, wash, exit, sanitize, breathe, and back to staring at the board.

I do not want to eat, but boredom teases my need to put something in my mouth. Now, I have snacks, but I roam. I read menus and calories, deciding that I truly do not want a thing. I gaze, people watch, looking both curious and inconspicuous. Can that be done? People watching happened in reverse as my attempt at a relaxed, sophisticated travel look worked. Several travelers comment on my jacket, earrings, and total vibe. I am not a fashionista. I dress for feeling and comfort, but I appreciate the nods.

Worcester, Track One, Boarding!