Speaking of Trains…

The Amtrak I took from DC to NYC this afternoon hit a person on the tracks, just north of the North Philadelphia station. While it took them nearly half an hour to inform us, it was immediately apparent to those of us in the first car that the person had died. Nearly two hours later, another northbound train stopped alongside, and TV news helicopters hovered overhead as all 2-300 of us climbed aboard.
Many people began trading our respective fragments of information. They’d seen a knot of policemen on the tracks, but had heard only there was “an obstruction” and a “mechanical problem”; while we’d been told immediately that the train had hit “a tresspasser,” later overheard to have been a “suicide,” but we never saw any sign of the accident. Finally, once the second train was underway, a conductor announced there had been “a fatality.”
In awkward cell phone conversations, we all tried to explain our delay, conflicted over sounding either too callously selfish or too fascinated.
[update: The Inquirer mentions the suicide in “Accident, derailment delay SEPTA riders.”]