class

I vaguely remembered from my last long-ago train ride that there was a first class lounge for folks who sprang for a sleeper. And sure, enough, still here. Behind frosted glass doors with subtle markings, a carpeted, softly lit, wood paneled, hushed sanctuary with WiFi and free coffee and muffins and drinks. A place to check your bags. People who call you "Ma'am" and smile.

I was going to stroll around Chicago, but you're not gonna get me outta here until the train comes.

Oooh...what's that? Chips?...