This past weekend I was privileged to get to see Madonna perform, but that was not even close to the most entertaining part of the adventure. For me, it's all about the train ride.
While I despise feeling like I am idling away the one hour and 50 minutes it takes to go from my specific station to Grand Central, in retrospect, the little glimpses into humanity is highly entertaining fodder for this Wanna-be Social Commentator.
Take for example the young girls discussing 50 Shades of Grey with their MOTHERS on the return trip. Or the Appalachian Trail back packers who had obviously spent so much time on the trail in recent days that even a train bathroom looked heavenly. (Judging by the amount of trips they took back and forth to it.) And perhaps the highlight, in the wee hours of the morning, returning, groggy and soggy from a rainy event, the Conductor with Soap Opera actor good looks, who sat down across the aisle from me and chatted all the way from Croton-Harmon to Poughkeepsie. It didn't even matter that he proudly displayed a wedding ring, it was the boost to my sequined ego that I needed.