I never plan this, but it happens that almost everywhere I go I end up taking public transit during the evening rush hours. It’s become something I relish.
There are elements of the experience that are so basically human, universal. And others that are unique to each place and culture—the manners and mannerisms. Apart from observing my fellow, foreign straphangers, I find myself identifying with them in the smallest ways: Maybe I’m tired from a long day of sightseeing, just like those workers are tired from a long day on their feet, and we all look forward to the exhalation of getting home (or to the hotel), and kicking our shoes off. Or maybe I’m rested, heading out, and just like some of the other riders I have plans for a nice meal or a good show, and the evening ride is the start of an evening full of promise.
Tonight was the former. It’s pissing cold rain in Cologne and I spent a great, full day in Aachen. The Sbahn was packed with people with a dreariness to match the weather. Looking out my hotel window onto Rudolphplatz below confirms that very few of those riders were headed out to trip the light fantastic on this Monday night.