The Amtrak train is a merry, merry place. Since the advent of polyphonic ringing on mobile phones, passenger cars have begun erupting in a randomized cacophony of songs from the "Love Boat” theme to “We Will Rock You.” These rings seem to have been specially designed to sound as if they are emanating from mid-air, like messages from the heavens. I am jealous because my own mobile phone has a barely audible ring that sounds like a cheerful canary being strangled, or perhaps merely becoming suddenly less cheerful. And no one ever calls me, whereas my fellow passengers are the most popular people in the world.

I wonder what it would be like to be indispensable.

The man in front of me the other day was named Bill Garvey. I know this because he phoned dozens of citizens and loudly announced, “This is Bill Garvey,” each time. Bill Garvey is an investment banker or stockbroker or some random person who is frequently possessed by the impulse to call people up and mention a lot of numbers and the possibility of “movement” in the “market.” I can only assume he was not discussing the problem of how the carts at my local Gristides are improbably large for the aisles.

At one point, the man across the aisle from us shouted over, “Hey, Bill Garvey! Do you know how annoying you are?” This was not keeping in tone with the merry, merry atmosphere, but Bill Garvey graciously got up and went to stand between the cars as we rocketed through New Jersey. I was so overcome with gratitude that I wanted to go over and kiss the man across the aisle, even though he was old and not particularly attractive. But he looked as if he wanted to be left alone.