This week, I was in Boston, cold as I cabbed it from the hotel to work, and back. The Amtrak station in Stamford is impossibly bright in the early morning before the sun has actually risen, and I find a spot where I can watch the board to see if the train will arrive on time. I eye the line and dunkin donuts, but stick to my guns that it is like drinking gasoline and do not get any.
I wait until the appointed hour and walk over to the bridge above the train track. A local train always comes in before the Amtrak train, and I look to see it arrive and leave before I descend to the freezing track below. This week the train was only about 5 minutes late, but it was very cold and I found a bit of shelter in the stairwell.
Returning from Boston on Thursday evening the train was late leaving South Station, 'a slight delay' and I was waiting for it in the unglamorous back-bay station, which reminds me that urban renewal in 1976 wasn't all that fine. The train is about 30 minutes late so I made my way back up the escalator and got myself a plain old-fashioned dunkin donut which is so heavy it keeps you full and warm for many a fine day. Almost as good as a New York street pretzel for that purpose