We left Newark, and the train donates me again some not-city. But no trees, no real county. Just a suburban river landscape, with dirty green-yellow grass, few trees and highways, trainrails, maybe also a trashdump. On the horizon, houses and buildings again.
When the controllor checks your ticket, here in NJ/NYC, he leaves another strange yellow receipt on the top you your seat.
The seats themselves have special places where they can stick them. Maybe it means that you have got your ticket, that it was already checked out, that you're allright. Or whatever.
Anyway: strange world.