I wrote this Tuesday morning.

The train came late this morning. We stood on the platform and waited for its headlights to appear on the horizon. Seven o'clock came and we waited. Five minutes passed and businesspeople were setting their cups of coffee on the ground and scrounging through their briefcases for the printed schedule. The more industrious and impatient ones called associates already onboard to find out what was going on.

An extremely serious fellow, who had steel gray hair and wore a pinstriped suit, exclaimed into his phone, "An hour late?!" He clapped the phone shut, snatched up his briefcase and said to the world in general, "Great! I'm screwed! I have to drive to work!" He then stomped off to his vehicle.

A few seconds later, a woman pointed down the track and asked a young looking executive, "Wait. Aren't those the headlights way down there?" In perfect unison, everyone turned and craned their necks to see.

"That's them," replied the executive. The headlights slowly grew into a train that crawled into the station five minutes later. With a sense of relief, everybody boarded, even Mr. Pinstripes, who had stormed off the platform earlier.

Of course, he's probably regretting that decision now. The train has been rolling at a snail's pace ever since we left. We arrived at the next station 25 minutes late. My station is still three stops away. At this rate, I'll be getting to work an hour later than usual.

Train delays bring out the worst in commuters. It's so unusual to see them being rude or venting to one another. Of course, I'm the same, but instead of venting to those around me, I'm expressing my frustration here. Thankfully, late trains are the exception and not the rule.