34 minutes to catch a train at Grand Central Station from when the Cardinal pulls in at Penn Station. I hit the platform striding for street level, then break out into a jog. Maybe I've played too many video games, but New York CIty is aggressively streamlined for Gotta Get Somewhere, and my consciousness lifts into a birds-eye view of the grid.
When there's a light in my favor, I cross. The crowds blend into one large, amorphous mist, with gaps that I can slip through if I direct my flow to blow them wide enough.
As a child, I've read dozens of books about the New York transit system acting as a portal between worlds. The main concourse spins around me while I stand still, waiting for the right gate to pass by.
I didn't realize that I missed the sound of the hole punch smashing through tickets.