Late Night Train Rides and Lonely Nights in New York City's Forgotten Stations

In the night sky far above the lighted ceiling of Penn Station’s main concourse, thunderclouds gathered in the New York City sky. Even on a good night it was next to impossible to see a star, but the encroaching storm blackened the Manhattan night. Neon signs stood out in brilliant relief against the rumbling grey darkness.

A story and a half below street level, the brown concrete of the platforms vibrated with the force of trains pulling into the station. Miles Pierson checked his watch, briefcase dangling in his grip. Forty past the hour of one. The train was two minutes early.

The Long Island lines usually weren’t this deserted, even on the other side of midnight, but this Friday had been exceptionally miserable. The sun hadn’t made one appearance from behind the heavy cloud cover, and it had drizzled off and on across the city for most of the day.

One of the ticket collectors nodded to Miles as he boarded the train. “Late night again, Mr. Pierson?”

“You know how it is, Derrick,” Miles said, giving the man a friendly smile. He worked late at the office often enough that he knew most of the staff on his line by name. Miles was a friendly, personable guy, the kind that people found easy to talk to. He whistled softly to himself as he wandered through the train, trying to find a quiet place to sit.

Normally, he would be eager to return to his home on the beach after such a long day at work. He hadn’t quite intended to stay at the office as late as he had, but the new sales report had just come in for the previous quarter, and he’d found it engrossing enough that he had only noticed the time when the security guard came around for midnight lockup. On this particular Friday, though, there was nothing waiting for him at home other than a small pile of dry cleaning and yesterday’s leftovers. Nothing to be eager about.

Most of the train cars were empty. The Port Jefferson line didn’t stop in many of the areas where young, partying college students lived - and even if it did, tonight was not the kind of night for standing in line outside the club. Miles tugged the cuffs of his suit jacket, resettling it over his broad shoulders, and pushed into the second car from

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THE END