Its funny how the tiniest things can so impact productivity. On the
train -- the Japanese kind with rows of individual seats on the top
floor, not the stupid but more showy American kind that only have
groups of four seats each taken up by one or two people, the remainder
empty or filled with their luggage -- there are usually two seats at
the end, sometimes with a cup holder in between. 
On this day, he managed to take one of these seats, the other one next
to him being left empty of course (people in the Bay Area refusing
even to acknowledge that others exist unless such is thrust upon them)
so he had a place to set his coffee while it cooled and between
drinks, having use of both of his hands, and the coffee, he was able
to complete a substantive piece of work during his commute
hour. Contrast this to the majority of mornings when he could not get
this one seat out of a dozen or, as had happened, this last seat was
free but was of the model without a cup holder, his work was
diminished from having to hold his cup of cofee with one hand while he
typed with another, juggling these with his commuter pass when the
conductor collected fare from those who were too paranoid or proper to
ride naked of legal protection.

If he missed the 7:04 train then the he had to take the 7:17 train,
which was one of the sleek (albeit sleek only in the way that plastic can
be sleek) American-built trains that only had seats in groups of three
or four.  While the capacity of both trains was approximately the same
(there were probably fewer seats on the Japanese trains), he could
rarely find a seat on the American variety. Each group of seats held
at least one person.  Without any way of knowing if anyone objected to his
presence, as people had historically done, he wandered up and down the
aisles, going from car to car, looking for that empty group of seats.
He could ask them, "Do you mind if I sat here?", and while the tone of
their voice would actually answer his question, more than likely the
words would be something along the lines of "Sure, go ahead."  Then,
regardless of the true intentions of the answerer, it would be rude
not to sit, so it was better not to ask, to wander the aisles and to
stand if there were no seats to be found. These mornings he rarely got
any work done.  Even finding a seat was an accomplishment.  He
supposed most people just sat down whereever without caring about the
issue.  He wondered, why then, were there comparatively many
attractive girls sitting alone.  If he were to hypothetically apply
the pervasive philosophy to himself, he would find a convenient seat
with a girl that was easy on the eyes, if only to sooth that foolish
need within towards the feeling of self-worth through the dance of
pseudo-procreation.  He hypothesized that perhaps people would rather
sit next to someone less attractive to avoid the question entirely.