On the T, as in life, there are all kinds of people, each with his or her own perspective. There are the runners, those who advance through the turnstiles and down the steps at a trot, with not a glance to the left or the right. Like racehorses with blinders on, they see little after the gates open save for their own approaching path and the reward awaiting at the finish.
Then there are the sprinters. They may approach the T stop at a businesslike pace, entering the gates without distress. But if they hear an announcement of a train "approaching" or (a bigger challenge) "arriving," they will dash like mad, knocking over small children or the elderly if necessary to join the runners and get on board.
The moderates seldom change their approach. They may walk at a good pace, but they do not bother to ever run. Is it their faith that sustains them? (I know there'll be another train right behind that one.) Or is it resignation (You win some, you lose some.) Perhaps they, like most moderates, are just too damn tired.
Dawdlers are rare. These are the people who seem to not be totally sure where they are going. They actually consider not getting on the train when it arrives, engrossed as they may be in whatever text-message drama or game is diverting them. (Now, where am I going? Ashmont? Or Braintree?)
Yes, it takes all kinds. And you cannot change any of them. They are what they are. Like our siblings and spouses, our friends and neighbors, they will soldier on in the only way they know how.
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