I finally nailed today what it is, fundamentally, about me wanting to commute to work on the train. Or bus (if there were one). It wouldn’t quite work for biking to work and doesn’t really work for driving, either. It’s the reason I’d hang out at the mall as a youngster … and enjoy, as much as one can with 100 pounds of luggage, two car seats, and two kids who tend to wander allow, the airport.

It’s not the hard plastic seats in 70’s era oranges, yellows, and tans. It’s not the rush to catch a train or bus that is uncharacteristically on time. Or the crush of three car loads of people on one car. It’s the sitting. And the waiting. And the watching. And the observing. People watching.

The wave of letting someone else, something else, carry me along doesn’t hurt. The illusion of the big city life fantasy from my child hood, of being “grown up” enough to ride by myself, figuring out the time tables and just going. But more than that, the people.

As a teen riding the bus system, I’d listen to the grown ups talking about their lives, their kids. I could people watch more closely than at the mall because the conversation carried along with us. People rode the bus or train regularly, with their friends and family, and it was just an extension of their day. On the train they do that to a lesser extent; they carry their loved ones in their pockets and talk using their cell phones.

Competition for bike space on the train is intense. Usually heavier on mondays and fridays. Most folks leave their bikes overnight at their destination station during the week, then cart it home on weekends. Some days you’re crammed against the fire extinguisher, balancing precariously over someone’s overflow luggage, other days you have half the car to choose from. Today, despite a worry that my train was running 45 minutes late or 10 minutes early, it arrived 6 minutes after it’s appointed time.

Seated on a near empty bench, I had a good chance to drink in a little bit of my fellow passengers through their cell phone conversations or loud opinions. The teacher having to watch two classes at once because one of her co-workers had disappeared. The abuela trying to get the time translated from Spanish to English so she could tell her grandson what time to meet her at the station. The new long-term commuter marveling at how far she could travel on a monthly pass ($80) and how often. The train regular who warned me that leaving my bike overnight at a station might get it stolen, shouting at the conductor for pulling short of the station (there was another train ahead of us), and blaming the gas prices on George W Bush. The parents with a 16 month old noodly baby who just didn’t want to sit still after a plane ride, a shuttle ride, and another half hour before home.

There’s a great slice of life on the train, and bus. I might find it hard to concentrate on a book, or easy to tune it all out using music, but I usually enjoy the traveling entertainment on its own every day. Some people meditate and recharge in the ocean, or a quiet field. It’s amusing I can recharge and relax crammed onto a sweaty, overcrowded train.

Where’s yours? In the tub? On elevators? Bowling alleys? Flower gardens? The checkout line? Watching the clouds or the crowds?