The cocktails started early, before the train left Manhattan, and by 6 p.m. most of the passengers were already on the second round. Tiny vodka bottles and punched ticket stubs littered the floor. A game of dice by the bar was getting rowdy as a couple canoodled in the corner, beers in hand.
The bar car is a mainstay of the commuting life, a lurching lounge on wheels inseparable from the suburbia of Cheever and "Mad Men."
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