While on my way home from work, I often have to sit in the White Plains train station for a bit, waiting for my train to arrive. Oftentimes the seating area is full, but every once and a while it is not.
That is truly when you ought to be cautious. Because a lot of times there are *reasons* why those seats are not taken.
A lot of times those reasons are whom I like to refer to as the drunks of White Plains. My favorite, or perhaps I should say, my *least* favorite, smells heavily of alcohol, and does a pretty poor job of drinking alcohol (out of a large fruit juice bottle, mind you), probably getting more on his body than down his throat.
Another least favorite is a lady who enjoys taking up several of the seats, and stretches out and falls asleep. She punctuates the noise of the waiting area with her own brand of slurred half-asleep gibberish.
In either case, I’d much prefer to stand.