How to Ride the Metro-North, Vol. 1

You’ve moved to suburbs and are becoming a Metro-North commuter. Mazel Tov! Let me help you. In this series, I’ll show what tickets to buy, which train car to pick, how to board and de-board, etc. In this installment, I’ll help you pick a seat.

You’ll typically have four seating options. Let’s examine the pros and cons of each.

The 1-Seater

Only the older trains have these. Your first instinct is to think you want one. But then you sit in one and realize you don’t. They’re just not that good. The backs are a little short, they never have a window, and you just don't get as much real estate as you do in a 2 or 3-seater. No human interaction is guaranteed, which is so valuable. But this seat just isn’t for me. I advise skipping it.

The 2-Seater

This seat is so sneaky. I used to think snagging an empty 2-seater was so money. And if you’re on an off-peak train that def won't fill up, it is. But if it’s a peak train, forget it.

This is how it goes. It’s empty, you sit in the window seat, and you put your bag in the seat next to you—you can do that on the Metro-North, it’s expected, unlike the subway where you can legally get stabbed for that. Mistake number one is taking the window seat. All the window seats have these little radiator ledge things on the floor, which prevent you from putting your feet down squarely in that seat. It's always best to take the aisle seat for that reason.

Mistake number two is thinking you’re going to get a 2-seater to yourself on a peak train. I mean, you might. Being a man increases your odds of remaining alone. Your size, hairiness, and disheveledness also seem to play a role. But the fuller it gets, the more likely you’re getting company no matter what you look like. And if you’re like me, you’re going to move your bag before anyone asks you to move it anyway. You get about 3 minutes of anxiety as the train fills up and you think people are thinking you’re a jerk. So, then you unilaterally move your bag because you can’t take it anymore. And then you get 2 more minutes of different anxiety wondering why no one’s sitting next to you. What’s wrong with me!? But then you get a seat mate, and they’re huge and/or eating something and/or drinking out of a paper bag, and you’re so close to each other. So close. Will you get Flu-A or Flu-B? We shall see.

So, I suggest avoiding the 2-seater if you can. If it’s all there is, look for one that already has a small person in there. Better to be the second-comer than the first.

The 3-Seater

Cue the heavenly music. This is the move. This is what you want.

Find a 3-seater with one occupant in the window seat with their bag in the middle seat. You take the aisle seat. You put your bag right next to theirs in the middle. Now you're golden. Nobody wants the middle seat. Nobody's going to ask two people to move their bags. You're not taking up two seats like some kind of animal. You're sharing. You’re a genuinely good person—a man of the people. You should run for office. Give me this seat all day every day.

The 4-Seater

These are the little units at the front of each car — two 2-seaters facing each other. If you're a group of four and you can grab one, do it. Enjoy yourselves.

I can’t tell you what it's like to sit in one of these because I wouldn’t dream of trying it. From what I’ve seen, though, it’s unbearable. Not only are you too close to the stranger next to you, but you're also staring directly at a different stranger. And your knees are touching. Everyone instinctively shifts their bodies in opposite directions to avoid actual knee contact, but now you’re going to get sciatica. I would rather sit on the floor. Avoid the 4-seater.

Conclusion

Next time: How to pay. Yes, there's a right way.