Writing from Amtrak on the way to Philly. We left after the usual 15-minute departure delay, during which time the board listed us as on-time, and I overheard one woman complained that she’d have to wait another hour because they told her this train had left. I went to the cafe and asked if I could sit there, since the last time I tried this I proceeded to debate with the Amtrak employees for 20 minutes over whether I was allowed to. (The answer, in hierarchical order of people I spoke to, was no, yes, no, yes, no.) This time, like every other time, the answer was, “Sure. Why’d you ask?”

As I took my seat at the table, I noticed two drops of water on the cushion and a premonition told me to take the other side. Around 10 minutes later during acceleration, a long stream of water poured out of the ceiling onto the spot where I’d have been sitting. I noticed that the opposite corner of the same ceiling panel was directly over me, deduced what might happen when we were braking, and moved to another table.

Mentioned this to the conductor. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “Happens every time it rains, all over the train. No way of knowing where it’s going to come down.”

Does the A in Amtrak stand for Aeroflot?