My kind seat-mate, a nice young woman, direct and wrm in the moods, with little blond-colored mustaches, announces me that we're about to go underground, under the Hudson River, to get from JNJ to Manhattan. And she's right. "Beware your ears", or something thelike, is what she must have told me. We're about to show up directly in Manhattan. Penn Station is underground. No space to build it on the ground, in "That island where 6 million people live together in such a little space... and they seem to go along well" (Margareth's words of yesterday, woth th be quoted, somewhere).