Once or twice a week I get the pleasure of riding the morning train with a guy I call The Newark Zombie. He gets on the train at stop somewhere down the line from me and in all the years he has been riding the train I have never seen him awake. The guy sleeps like the dead. That is until the first brakes are applied outside of the Newark Broad Street station. He sits bolt upright, grabs his briefcase from between his feet and then stumbles to the steps as the train is pulling into the station. Ten seconds after he wakes up he is stumbling across the platform toward the steps to the street.
Sounds a lot like me some 26 years ago when I started riding the Northeast Corridor trains.