A stop in Jacksonville.

Being fearful of flying, I have often taken the train from Miami to Washington D.C., Baltimore, or Boston. (Though having discovered Jet Blue, I am less afraid). Anyway on my most recent train
trip the roomette (which was insanely expensive) was even more noisy than one normally expects. The small compartment squeaked and rattled so loudly, it was difficult to read. I knew I couldn't switch accommodations because the train was completely booked since it was near to Christmas. When we made a stop in Jacksonville, I got off the train to stretch my legs which meant joining all the persons who were clouding their lungs. One smoker in particular seemed pleasant enough. When I asked her if her compartment was particularly noisy, she responded in a manner I detest. Instead of answering the question I asked, she gave me an incredulous look and said, as if talking to a child, "It's a train" While I wanted to punch her in the face, I patiently explained that I was familiar with trains and found this one especially noisy. She indicated that she did not find this the case and, like so many people I meet, launched into a self-centered monologue about herself, never asking a single question about me. She seemed particularly interested in relating the story of her last train trip in which union problems and other delays caused a number of inconveniences. She closed her boring story with the words, "Anyway, we were three hours getting into New York." My reply to her, just before reboarding the train was, "Well, what did you expect. After all, it's a train."

Note: No, this is not the actual woman, but close enough.