There are a countless ways to get from point A to point B. While we highly suggest the ease and comfort of a Carmel car on your journey, perhaps your phone has died and you cannot call or access your handy Carmel app. Then what? Then you must endure and continue on your way.

In any city, you’ll find the streets and mass transit packed with people. Shoulder to shoulder you stand waiting for that train or bus. Most of the time you are in your own world, worried about the things within that world. But sometimes, particularly in moments of solidarity, worlds open to us as we wait together.

Perhaps it is simple as an eye roll and a sigh, or maybe an audible groan, or just outright “damn it, f**k you MTA,” but that mutual frustration connects the two of you. You offer support by affirming their declarations, “Yes, it is ridiculous that four R trains have passed without an N/Q in sight” “If only there were a car service we could take that did not participate in surge pricing or outrageous fees!” (There is, and lucky for you, you know to just call Carmel).

As the two of you continue to complain on the platform, a small, strange friendship blooms. With immediate similarities, such as as current place and destination, there is a lot on which to build a rapport. And as your train finally arrives, the two of you board, discussing your days. Empathy is in abundance as you both just want to get home.

For the next 20-30 minutes, you find yourself wrapped in conversation with someone who was a mere disgruntled stranger only minutes ago.  You can learn a lot about a person in one subway ride, and it may even look as though you are old friends chatting on the way to the same destination.

But these friendships are over as quickly as they began. As your stop approaches, the conversation must come to a close. The goodbye is strange, what do you say to someone to whom you have momentarily opened up your life but will now never see again? And so, the doors open and you part ways with your new friend, who has once again become a stranger.

Maybe the next day as you opt for the faster, more convenient choice of a Carmel car home from work, you think about your nameless companion and his commute that day. If only you exchanged numbers, then your Carmel commute would be filled with that day’s news and shared anxieties.

But that is the nature of transit friendship. Built on mutual frustration, carried on a crowded ride, and swiftly brought to an end. Even though it lasts for just a short amount of time, in this interconnected, yet lonely metropolis, one cannot argue with human connection, however we get it.