In the cafe car of an Amtrak train, just before Thanksgiving. I asked the employee behind the counter for a ginger ale.
I eyed the stack of cans on the counter. "I guess you're sold out of the cold ones."
He followed my gaze. "Those are reserved for business class."
"That's just the way it is. I don't make the rules."
I ordered a Heineken instead, thinking, No brother, you sure don't. But I kept it to myself as I headed back to the "Quiet Car."