Some hours in the Amtrak station.

It was small; just 15'x20', with 25 hardshell bucket seats dyed an assortment of colors from 1982. Nine of the seats were occupied – four by luggage. The other five occupants distanced themselves equally throughout the room, following the laws governing a gaseous substance filling its container. The man in the corner sported a tan & yellow jacket, a well-worn Brewers cap, and an extremely heavy breathing pattern. Kitty-corner to him was a kind, quiet woman with her cell phone, who provided frequent help to the elderly Chicago native to her left. The Chicagoan bustled about, in and out of her seat, flipping through her AARP magazine and lamenting her choice to travel by rail – all regularly interspersed by a rib-rattling cough and an ongoing commentary regarding the weather, or whatever else happened to cross her mind.

Closer to my vantage point, in a banana yellow seat in the corner, was Xavier: a young man in his 20s gracing all of us with his amateur rapping skills, with great fervor and vigor (no vocal emphasis, volume, foot stomp, or dance move was spared). To be more precise, his name was Xavier Dominguez, which we all discovered after his speakerphone conversation with an Amtrak representative, which followed his video chat with his friend behind a paper-thin bathroom door. The Chicagoan didn't fully appreciate Xavier's displays, muttering, "Ya know if you act crazy, they will come and get ya."

Breathy Brewer hasn't made a peep, and Xavier's slumped down in his chair such that he's almost horizontal. Kindly Quiet and the Chicagoan have popped open some chips for lunch.

The five of us were suddenly comrades, strangers thrown together in a twist of plot delaying our 11:26a train to 2:15p.

Xavier's tic-style rap ebbs and flows once again, crescendoing for 10 seconds and fading out as his body slumps back into his seat. The Chicagoan speaks a little louder now: "I'm gonna call the white coats. They're gonna take you away, 'cuz you crazy."

Unlikely acquaintances. Nothing in common except our direction of travel.

The Chicagoan has given in to her overwhelming need for conversation; Kindly Quiet entertains her barrage of questions in true character. Breathy Brewer finally speaks, scarcely turning down the volume on his One Direction playlist to curse Xavier after one of his short rap outbursts.

It's fascinating how we sit within 20 feet of one another, all with the same destination, and virtually ignore one another's existence, all secretly willing our interactions to be over as quickly as possible.

Humans are absolutely intriguing. Why are we so afraid of each other?