One of the reasons I ride the train is that it is reliable. It almost always runs on time. In a given year, there might be a couple of delays. Impressively, mechanical failure of the train is rare. Typically during the winter, we get one bad storm that leaves so much water in the low-laying areas that the train has to be cancelled or run at precautionary speeds. The other reason for delay is death on the tracks. Several times during my years as a passenger, trains have been delayed by collisions with people. The people always lose. I have been on a train when a person was struck. So has my wife. It is usually not an accident. What despair could cause a person to throw themselves in front of a multi-ton locomotive hurtling along the railway at 60 miles per hour?
The train I ride from work was delayed last week by a death at another station further north. What was most troublesome was the callous tone of the remarks I heard among other passengers. One would think the person died specifically to disrupt their day.
“Serves them right for being drunk near the tracks.”
“They could have picked another train.”
In this case, it appeared to be an accident, although we will never know. I was left to wonder what internal mechanism people use to value one life over another. Why is it that when a total stranger dies all the way across the country in a horrific explosion, we empathize, but if the death of total stranger a few miles away disrupts our schedule, it is annoying?
No comments:
Post a Comment